


Do I Ever Cross Your Mind?

by Tomboy13



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/F, Feelings, Horror if you squint, Jealous Waverly makes an appearance, Minor Jeremy/Robin - Freeform, Wayhaught - Freeform, Wayhaught endgame, so many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 48,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22900114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomboy13/pseuds/Tomboy13
Summary: Waverly Earp wakes up in bed with her husband, which would be fine except that she’s almost certain she went to sleep next to someone else.Nicole Haught wakes up alone in her car, eager to start work on a dilapidated old house for one Gus McCready of Purgatory, but she can’t shake the feeling that her life was different yesterday.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Waverly Earp/Champ Hardy, Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught, Wynonna Earp & Gus McCready, Wynonna Earp & Nicole Haught
Comments: 235
Kudos: 712





	1. Chapter 1

The watery morning light filtered through the window, and washed over the bedroom of Waverly Earp. The first thing she registered was how warm and comfortable she felt, tucked safely under familiar blankets, the body next to her breathing heavily. Still half-asleep and unwilling to let go of the warm stupor of her dreams, she opened one eye a crack, and promptly closed it again. Judging by the angle of the sun where it pushed through the flimsy curtains of the homestead, Waverly figured it was about 10am; a blissful lie in for a deputised member of a secret government division and the girlfriend of a small town’s Sheriff, especially in a town like Purgatory that seemed only to exist to create more problems for itself. Next to her, her bedmate snuggled in closer, still snoring loudly, and brought a heavy, hairy arm to wrap around her midriff. They smelled of stale beer and another woman’s perfume, and for the first time since waking, Waverly recognised the breathy snuffling as distinctly masculine. Her eyes shot open. 

“Nicole?!” She hissed, rolling sharply out of bed and onto the floor, shuffling backwards across the cold, hard boards until her back hit the far wall.

“Wha-?” The man in her bed propped himself up, bleary eyed. He looked confused. “Babe, what are you on about?”

“Champ?” Waverly frowned, not making sense of the sight of her ex-boyfriend in her bed. The blankets had slipped down and she could see he was naked to his waist; he’d gained a few tattoos and a few pounds since she’d last seen him. Looking down at her own body in confusion, she was horrified to see that she herself was in nothing more than the lace knickers she had gone to bed in. She shifted, trying to cover as much of the exposed skin as she could, before demanding, “Where’s Nicole? Why are you in my bed?”

The man scratched his ear, looking unimpressed. “Who is Nicole? And why wouldn’t I be in our bed?”

Waverly opened her mouth to respond, and promptly shut it again. Of course. This wasn’t her old childhood room; it was their little flat, tucked away above Shorty’s, like it had always been. And who on earth _was_ Nicole? “I don’t...um...”

“Weird dreams again?” Champ asked sympathetically. He moved over slightly, patting the warm sheets next to him. “Come back to bed and let me make it all better.”

Waverly bit her lip, feeling the last vestiges of whatever vivid dream had gotten her worked up this time dissipating like smoke, and then moved to get back under the covers, easing herself backwards into his embrace until they were spooning. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“It’s ok.” Champ huffed into her shoulder. “You can fix me breakfast later to make up for it.”

Waverly nodded absently, still feeling out of sorts. She laced her fingers with Champ’s, and tried to forget the strange sensation that what she’d woken up to wasn’t the life she’d gone to bed with. On her wedding finger, the familiar thin band of gold glinted in the daylight.

————————————————————————————-

Nicole Haught had lead a relatively adventurous life, in an outdoorsy, all-Canadian sort of way, so she was no stranger to waking up in states of discomfort. She’d once spent a memorable night halfway up a rock face on Mount Robson in a two man climbing hammock, and had bedded down in a tent in Banff National Park that had brought her considerably closer to a grizzly bear than she would have liked. As such, waking up in her battered old ‘98 Ford Contour should have been a cake walk by comparison, if not for the fact that she vividly recalled going to sleep in an actual bed, holding her girlfriend in her arms, worrying about a case at work.

Blinking in the bright morning sun, she unfolded herself uncertainly from the drivers seat and scanned her location, stretching out stiff muscles as she did so. She was parked on the side of the highway, with nothing to see for miles but prairie and mountains. There was a road sign just past the end of her vehicle, and she ambled over to it, still trying to work out what was going on. _Welcome to Purgatory!_ , it declared in whimsical font.

“Purgatory.” Nicole said slowly, trying the sound out on her tongue. There was something there, some memory, but even as she stared up at the brightly painted wood, it was fading like ashes into moving water. “Welcome to Purgatory.” She tried again.

Of course. Purgatory. She was here to start her new job. Fishing in her jean’s pocket she found a folded scrap of paper, worn delicate through excessive handling. “Gus McCready, my new boss.”

It had been a strange but lovely dream, Nicole thought as she made her way back to her car. Being cozy, having a loving girlfriend, friends, career. Instead, the cold reality was she had nothing but what she could fit into her knackered old car as she ran from her failed marriage in the big city, and that scrap of paper with Gus McCready’s name and address written on it. _More than a lot of folks_ , she dutifully reminded herself.

“Well, Purgatory,” Nicole said as she started the engine, smirking slightly at her own joke, “get ready because I am in you.” 

————————————————————————

“Well,” said the older woman who had greeted Nicole at the front door of the Earp Homestead, her face furrowed in mild disapproval, “I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t expecting someone a little more...substantial.” She had grey hair, kept short, and the life-hardened eyes that the newcomer had seen on several of the townsfolk as she drove through. Purgatory, it seemed, wasn’t for the faint at heart.

“I’m stronger than I look, m’am, and I’m not afraid of hard work or getting my hands dirty.” Nicole assured, trying her hardest to look earnest.

Gus eye-balled her for a moment longer, and then folded her arms. “I’m not payin’ you by the hour, so I guess I’ll be the judge of that.”

Nicole felt relief course through her body. “I won’t let you down, Mrs McCready.”

Gus hummed, her face disbelieving, but gestured for the redhead to follow her inside nonetheless. “So I need this place fixed up a month from now. My niece, Wynonna, she’s been staying with me, along with her baby girl, but it’s cramped and we spend as much time trippin’ over each other as we do arguin’. Can’t say I won’t miss little Alice, though, but they need their own space sure enough. She’ll be moving in October 1st, come what may, so you need to be done by then. You can stay here in the mean time, assuming you have no where else?”

“No, m’am.” Nicole agreed, looking around in awe at the amount of work required to get the main building up to scratch. The floorboards were bare and springy. There were holes in the walls where the outer boards had fallen, and most of the rooms they traipsed through needed plastering and damp proofing. Every surface was coated in a layer of white dust. She didn’t even want to think of the state of the barn and outbuildings. “Do the electrics work? I don’t do wiring or gas.”

“The wiring should be fine, had it checked a few weeks ago, and we ain’t connected to the mains gas, just water. It’s just a surface job, really, but I don’t trust the scrotes in this town to do it and not rip me off.” The woman’s eyes narrowed, making Nicole swallow nervously. “You wouldn’t rip me off, would you, Ms Haught?”

“Scout’s honour.” Nicole said, hand held high and face solemn. 

Gus rolled her eyes. “I brought some provisions to get you set, they’re in the ice box, and I’ll be by Monday to check in. You have my number?”

Nicole waved the scrap of paper she’d been holding in her hand like a talisman, smiling weakly. 

“Well then, I’ll leave you to it.”

Nicole stood and watched Gus’s pick up truck until it disappeared over the horizon. Turning slowly, she stared at the project she had taken on, and wondered what the hell she’d been thinking. It was best described as ramshackle, and was toeing the line of desolate. She had a flash of the place covered in snow, and the roads to town blocked by drifts nearly as high as her car. For some reason, the thought made her feel warm, hopeful.

In front of her eyes, a slate slid from the roof, smashing a flower pot full of dead weeds before bouncing down the stoop steps. The quiet buzz of insects and Mrs McCready’s car vanishing down the road were the only other sounds to be heard.

“Here we go, I guess.” She said brightly, to no one but the wind.

From the space next to her, unseen by mortal eyes, a man screamed silently into the dusty air, blue eyes burning.


	2. Chapter 2

The bar is different, Waverly thought as she walked in, before instantly correcting herself. She’d worked at Shorty’s since she left high school, and knew the place inside out; the pool table was where it had always been, the juke box was playing its perennial country rock mix, and the smell of sour booze and desperate men lingered in the air; it was the same as ever. Walking down the last few steps in her standard uniform - a cut-off Shorty’s shirt and denim hot pants - she wondered if the change wasn’t in herself rather than the location. She felt strange; sort of...out of place? Scanning the room, she didn’t notice that she wasn’t alone until someone threw a cloth at her.

“Waverly, can you stop gawping and get to work?” An exasperated voice moaned from behind the bar. Waverly’s stomach dropped at the sound. Turning slowly, mouth open, she couldn’t help but stare at the tall, wideset man polishing the taps with a grubby rag, his turquoise Hawaiian shirt out of place in the dingy wood-lined saloon.

“Shorty?” She whispered. 

The man looked up quizzically. “Yeah? What, have I got something on my face?”

“You’re...you’re here.” Waverly said in awe. 

“Where the hell else would I be at this time on a Saturday? Look, Waverly, I don’t know what fumes you’ve been huffing, but can you please get over here so I can go change the barrels? The lunchtime rush will be starting any minute.” 

“Yeah, um, yes just let me...” she hurried around the bar, and threw herself into the startled man’s arms. He didn’t hug back, exactly, arms hovering just above the barmaid’s shoulders, but it was a comfort nevertheless. “I just really missed you.”

“You saw me yesterday, just before I had to scrape that damn husband of yours off my pool table.” Shorty said in a puzzled voice, before shaking his head and ambling away in the direction of the cellar.

“Pretty sure it wasn’t the pool table’s perfume he was wearing this morning.” Waverly mumbled to herself, but in spite of everything she couldn’t wipe her absurd smile at seeing the burly owner. She picked up the dish towel that Shorty had chucked and went to finish the cleaning, humming quietly along to the Dolly tune playing through the speakers as she worked.

“Hey, baby girl.” Looking up, Waverly saw Wynonna manhandling a push chair through the heavy front doors. Inside, Alice was burbling and waving her arms, looking unhappy at her confinement.

Waverly’s face crinkled in a beaming smile. “Monkey!” She shrieked, scurrying to where her sister was trying to heave the pram down the steps. Unbuckling the one year old, she whirled the toddler round in her arms, getting a little squeal of excitement from the girl. “I missed you!”

Wynonna rolled her eyes and threw the pram down the last stair. “You’re acting like you haven’t seen her in months.”

Waverly grinned, pressing a kiss to the child’s blonde curls which were already turning Earp brown. She smelt of talcum powder and the slightly grubby scent of small children everywhere. “Well she _is_ my favourite.”

“She’s everyone’s favourite. Little brat.” The older Earp said without malice. “You got time for a coffee with your big bad sister?”

“Sure thing, grab a seat.” Waverly said, bouncing the little girl on her hip. “I’ll see if we can find this cutie monkey something too.”

“For the love of Christ, Wynonna,” Shorty said as he walked back into the barroom, out of breath from the stairs, “this is a bar not a nursery. Get that kid out of here.”

“Hey, watch your mouth. _That kid_ is an Earp, which means that one day she’s going to be keeping this place afloat, same as her mama did.” Wynonna quipped, as Waverly slid a coffee cup in front of her, following it with a carton of juice for the young one. “Show some damn respect.”

Shorty sighed. “Fine, but you best be gone before my first customer arrives.” He leaned over to chuck the baby under the chin. Alice’s face crumpled, and she began squirming to get out of Waverly’s arms. “Paying customer, I mean.”

“We will.” Waverly said in a sing song voice, jiggling to calm the toddler crying in her arms. Shorty nodded curtly, and ambled away towards the store room. 

“So,” Wynonna drawled, taking a sip from her cup, “what’s new with you?”

Waverly bit her lip, sitting Alice on the bar, where she could play with the beer mats. “Nothing, really.”

Wynonna raised an eyebrow. “That was convincing.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just just feeling a bit...weird today.” The younger woman said, trying to find the words to describe how the whole world had shifted on its axis overnight.

“That dick boyfriend of yours do something?” Wynonna growled. “Or someone?”

“Husband.” Waverly corrected her. “And no. Well, maybe, but that’s not why I’m not myself. Things just seem kind of off balance today, you know? Like, everything is just as it’s always been, but it feels unfamiliar. Off-ish.”

Wynonna shrugged, taking a chug of coffee. “Baby girl, I’m a 30 year old single mother living in her aunt’s basement, picking up cash-in-hand shifts at the local knocker-locker. The whole world is off-ish for me.” 

Waverly frowned, feeling foolish. 

“Although...” Wynonna continued, her brow furrowing. “I had the strangest dream last night. I’d sent the baby away, and I was like a cop, and I had this magical gun that I needed to shoot all these walking dead guys with.” Her eyes glazed slightly. “Alice’s father was a gun slinging vampire.”

“That is one hell of a nightmare.” Waverly chuckled. 

Wynonna shook her head, as if to clear the memory. “It was fucking vivid. I mean, baby Earp doesn’t even have a dad, for fucks sake.”

“Not in front of the baby!” Waverly hissed, clamping her hands over the child’s ears. “I don’t want her first word to be...F.U.C.K.” 

“It’ll probably be C.U.N.T.” Wynonna said sarcastically, spelling out each letter with exaggerated emphasis while gently prising a lock of Waverly’s hair from Alice’s pudgy fingers.

“Hey babe.” Champ said, leaping down the last stairs from their apartment in his police uniform. 

“Speaking of.” Wynonna said sweetly, pushing the empty coffee mug away from her. “I gotta hit the road, sis. Gus finally got someone in to renovate the homestead, and she wants to talk to me about colour schemes so the poor guy can’t screw it up.”

“She’s fixing up the homestead?” Waverly said with interest, giving Champ a cursory peck on the lips, although her gaze never left her sister’s face.

“Yep, guess she finally decided she needed her house back.” Wynonna said, buckling Alice into her pushchair. “Hey, muscles, give me a hand will ya?”

Champ huffed, but stomped over to haul the pram up the stairs anyway. Alice clapped her little hands happily, before enthusiastically grabbing at her uncle’s standard issue tie where it dangled tantalisingly in front of her young face. Putting down the pram, he pulled the tie from her grip and stuck his tongue out in annoyance, which only made the baby giggle.

“Later, baby girl.” The elder Earp said as she breezed out, the door swinging shut behind her. 

Waverly watched her go with a smile, before turning back to her spouse. “You off to work?”

Champ shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve got time, yet. Figured I’d grab a drink before my shift.”

“You can have coffee or coke.” The brunette said firmly, leaning on the bar with arms folded. “Your jobs too important to go in half cut.”

“Aww come on babe.” The man moaned, staggering back towards the bar like a petulant teenager. “One beer isn’t going to hurt. This town is so _boring_ , there’s literally nothing for us cops to do.”

“Water it is.” Waverly said, ignoring his groan and turning to grab a glass. She heard the door open but didn’t look up, merely registering the first of the day drinkers arriving.

“A water sure sounds good to me.” A lilting feminine voice called out playfully; looking towards the main entrance, Waverly Earp felt her knees go weak.

————————————————————

It wasn’t that the house was creepy, as such; Nicole wasn’t the kind of woman to spook easily. It was just that she was sure she could hear something, too faint to make out, as if someone were mouthing words right next to her ear, or a creaking as if very light footsteps were moving around her. It was unnerving.

“Pull yourself together, Haught. It’s just the wind blowing through this crap shack.” She said, trying to convince herself, as she taped a black bin liner over a hole in the wall of the shower. After spending 48 hours in her car, the thought of a shower sounded amazing. The water came out a brown-ish colour, but after running the taps for a few minutes, it cleared up enough that she was willing to risk it, and if she kept her front towards the wall while she bathed, away from imaginary prying eyes, that was no-ones business but her own.

Feeling fresh in a clean pair of Levi’s and a flannel button-up, sleeves rolled to the elbow, Nicole took the chance to wander from room to room, inventorying what she’d need to get the job done. She reviewed the list while sipping a cold beer, one of the items left by Gus to get her up and running. While she knew she’d be reimbursed at the end of the month, Nicole couldn’t help the anxiety that she wouldn’t have enough in her bank account to get all the bits and pieces she required. It didn’t help that for the life of her, she couldn’t recall how much was in her balance or even what bank she was with. Fishing around in the glove box of the car, she found a battered leather wallet; inside was $10, a driving license (hers), and a debit card (also hers), for a bank whose name she didn’t recognise. 

“You need to get your head in the game, Nicole.” She told herself sternly, as she sat in the driver’s seat, door open, and stared across the scrubland that seemed to stretch all the way to the mountains beyond. It really was a beautiful view.

Walking into the house, Nicole grabbed her boots and hat, pocketing the long list of purchases she had to make in town, before heading back out to her Contour. 

The town was pretty small, and like all towns built for people doing tough, all-weather agricultural work, the hardware store was a central attraction. She ambled the aisles, pushing a trolley in front of her and grabbing what she needed for the basics; she would discuss the decorating with Mrs McCready before she brought any equipment for that. She hadn’t even met the niece yet, but she had a gut feeling that she wouldn’t be a magnolia paint kind of girl. At the checkout, she held her breath as the cashier ran her card, and sighed in relief as the receipt was handed over for signature. She dutifully pocketed her copy, and headed back to the parking lot.

Driving back through town, Nicole was struck by how thirsty she felt all of a sudden. She’d drunk a beer and a litre bottle of water that morning, but her tongue felt drier than sandpaper. Parking on Main Street, she was relieved to see a bar displaying the Open sign just a few doors down. Entering, she stopped in the doorway to remove her Stetson, allowing her eyes to adjust to the gloom. 

The barmaid was talking to a police officer, and Nicole felt her thirst screaming at the woman’s mention of water.

“A water sure sounds good to me.” She said, raising her voice to drown out the copper’s childish groan.

The room’s occupants turned as one, and Nicole swallowed drily to be suddenly the focus of their full attention. She gave a wave with the hat in her hand, smile frozen in place. Her gaze met the barmaid’s, and in that instant, everything else seemed to melt away. The woman had the loveliest eyes she’d ever seen; they appeared to brim with kindness and something else. Something like hope. 

“Who drinks water when they could have beer?” The police officer sneered.

“Champ, be nice.” The woman said, flicking his muscular arm with the end of a tea towel. Turning her attention back to the stranger still hovering in the doorway, she gestured to a bar stool. “Please, grab a seat. One water coming up.”

Nicole bowled down the steps and across the wooden floor, nodding cordially to Champ as she went. Throwing the Stetson down on the counter, she was alarmed to see the officer start dramatically.

“Shit I forgot my hat!” He hissed, before running and disappearing through a doorway at the side of the bar.

“He’d forget his own head of it wasn’t screwed on.” The barmaid said pleasantly, placing a tall glass full of water and ice on a coaster in front of her customer.

“Well, this is a sight for sore eyes.” Nicole licked her lips appreciatively, taking a cool sip from the glass. “Nicole Haught. I’m new in town.” 

The woman smiled, and Nicole felt her heart stutter to see the laughter lines creasing around her dark brown eyes. “Waverly Ear-Hardy. Waverly Hardy. Sorry, Earp is my maiden name, no idea why I went to use that one.” They shook hands, holding on for longer than was customary. Nicole thought she saw a blush forming on Waverly’s cheeks, and wondered wistfully if it was due to the slip up or the handshake.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Waverly.” The redhead said sincerely. 

Waverly ducked her head sheepishly, then she chuckled. “You wear a cowboy hat? I’ve never seen anyone who isn’t a cop actually wearing one of these.” Picking up the hat, which had once been cream but was now a well-weathered mottled grey, she turned it over in her hands, running her fingers along the sweat-stained ribbon inside. 

“I’ve always worn one.” Nicole shrugged. “Maybe I should have been a cop.” Plucking the Stetson from her new acquaintance’s fingers, she held it over her head. “May I?” Waverly nodded eagerly, and Nicole positioned the hat, careful not to tug her hair. “It looks _very_ stylish on you. I knew I wore it for a reason.”

“Babe, what are you _wearing_?” Champ said as he strode into the room. 

“Nicole let me try on her hat, do you like it?” Waverly said, striking a pose.

“You look ridiculous.” Champ said bluntly, pulling the hat from her head and tossing it onto the bar. “You don’t know if she’s got nits or what.” 

“I don’t.” Nicole said quickly, looking at Waverly. “I don’t have lice.”

“Oh, no offence.” Champ said with a fake smile. He eyed the newcomer, running his gaze over her body, before placing a proprietorial arm around Waverly’s waist and tugging her into his side. “Just looking out for my wife.”

“No offence taken.” Nicole said half-heartedly, rising to her feet. “How much do I owe you?” 

“I’m not going to charge you for tap water.” Waverly laughed, while next to her Champ nuzzled his mouth into her neck.

“Thank you.” Nicole nodded, stepping back towards the exit. “It was nice to meet you, Waverly. I’m doing some work for a few weeks on a house near town, so I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

“The Earp homestead?” Waverly asked quickly.

“The very same.” The woman answered with a wink, before ducking out of the door.

———-———————————————————-

Walking back to the car, Nicole allowed herself to indulge the butterflies in her stomach for a moment. What are the odds that the most beautiful woman in town would also be part of the family now employing her to renovate their property? Then she remembered the husband, with his envious hands and sticky kisses. “Lucky bastard.” She muttered.

As she drove away, she spotted a building that she had missed previously. Ghost River County Municipal Buildings: Purgatory Sheriff's Department. She slammed on the breaks, causing the van behind her to honk aggressively. A man was walking out of the door of the building; he was an older man, with grey hair and a moustache, wearing the same police uniform Champ had sported. He looked at the car, staring blankly at Nicole, mouth ajar. There was something there, something she couldn’t quite...

“Move your damn car, bitch!” The driver behind was leaning halfway out of his window, waving both fists. Without a second’s further thought, Nicole slammed her car into first and pulled away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely feedback on the first chapter, team. What a lovely bunch you are!
> 
> If anyone spots any glaring spelling errors or suchlike, please do let me know - I’m trying to weed them all out, but team work makes for dream work.


	3. Chapter 3

Champ was snoring again. The open-mouthed snorting snuffling sounds ran through Waverly like a chainsaw, and only helped prolong the sleeplessness that was plaguing her night. The digital clock on the bedside table read 02:17, and she hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep so far. The room was too stuffy, the sound of the streets outside too loud; even the man lying in bed next to her, the same that she’d slept next to for the past 7 years, felt wrong. He took up too much of the bed, and the warm, clingy touch of his skin made Waverly want to shuffle as close to the edge of the mattress as she could get. Even the smell of him was turning her off. She had a moment of expectation, inhaling deeply and waiting for a sweet, vanilla-tinged scent, but all she got was the lingering odour of his body spray.

Sighing, she turned again, facing into the darkness, and closed her eyes. Behind the lids, she pictured red hair and dimples, and gentle hands that held her tight, and felt if not better, calmed.

Miles out of the town proper, Nicole Haught tossed and turned in her sleeping bag, the noises of the house settling and the wind blowing the leaves outside providing solace for the soft breaths of a bedmate she felt should be there, and that she didn’t have. It was irrational, she knew; perhaps it was her subconscious remembering all the nights she had slept next to Shae, her soon-to-be ex-wife; perhaps it was wishful thinking. Whatever the cause, it was making it impossible to sleep.

Sighing, she rolled over, pulling the hood of the bag tighter around her ears to keep out the chill. Closing her eyes, she thought of smooth waves of brown hair, and a kindness she wasn’t sure she deserved. It was just enough to lull her into a fitful sleep.

——————————————————

_I only want to protect my research_. Waverly reassured herself as she drove towards the Earp homestead. _No other reason I’d be there at this time on a Sunday. Just my research._

The road was familiar, and she drove with the radio tinkling and the windows down to let in the last of the late-summer breezes. As she pulled onto the track that lead to the Homestead, Waverly realised that she felt happy - happier certainly than she had since she woke up the previous morning. The jeep bounced along the rutted path, until she was pulling under the lintel of the home. A beaten-up Ford Contour was parked in the driveway, the doors and boot open; a blanket had been laid on the ground next to it, spread with tools.

To her left, Nicole strode out of the barn with 2 lengths of wood. Waverly allowed her eyes to track the muscles flexing in her arms, and the line of her body under the tight black tank top, before mentally slapping herself. She was a married woman. A _straight_ married woman. It wouldn’t do to have those kind of thoughts about some stranger who was, to all intents and purposes, just passing through.

“Hi!” She called, jumping out of her vehicle. Nicole started, before a beaming smile took over her face.

“Waverly! This is a nice surprise.” The woman said, throwing the pieces of wood onto the stoop and rubbing her grubby hands onto her jeans. “I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

“You don’t waste any time do you?” Waverly teased.

Nicole’s mouth fell open; then her eyes widened in realisation. “Oh the house! Well, you know, there is a lot to be getting on with.”

“Yeah, we’ve let it run down over recent years.” The brunette agreed with a sigh. 

“Well, I’ve given it a quick clean so I can work out what needs doing. I’m going to start on shoring some of the missing wall panels and shingle the roof while the weathers fine, and then I can start with the aesthetic stuff.” Nicole squinted up at the house, before turning her attention to the building opposite. “I’m leaving the barn til last, but it needs the most work. There’s a terrible leak - one part of the roof has pretty much caved in.”

Waverly gasped. “Oh _shit buckets_!” She dashed into the barn, Nicole following close on her heels. 

“Waves, what’s wrong?!” 

Waverly stopped in the doorway. The barn was empty. “Oh my god, I spent years on that research.” She howled mournfully, hands on her head as she surveyed the area; it was noticeably devoid of the boxes and boxes of artefacts and written documents that she distinctly recalled leaving there. “I’m going to kill Champ for making me store it here.”

“The stuff in here was yours?” Nicole asked, confused. “I moved all of that into the main house. I was worried about the damp getting to it. Some of it looked super delicate.”

“You...went through my collection?” Waverly asked slowly.

“No. No!” Nicole protested, stepping forwards with her hands spread in supplication. “That would be totally intrusive and creepy.” She laughed nervously. “I just sort of had a glance to see if it was junk, and, um, then read...some...of it.” 

Waverly lifted her brow.

“I am _so_ sorry.” Nicole said after a heart beat. “It just looked really interesting, but when I realised I was snooping, I just lifted it all straight into the house. Promise.”

“You thought it was interesting?” The barmaid asked, ignoring her apologies. Nicole nodded fervently. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone who found it anything other than a total bore, not since my uncle Curtis died.”

“Seriously?” Nicole moved closer, her eyes lighting up. “The little bit I read was amazing. So in depth. You must have spent hours on it.”

“I did.” Waverly agreed with equal enthusiasm. “I’ve spent years getting any information I could find on the Ghost River area, and the life of Wyatt Earp. I took a course in Ancient Languages and Cultures to help me better tie it all together. Even the cataloguing system is my own invention. Crackers help anyone if they lose the index.”

“Thats impressive.” Nicole said, before her brow furrowed. “If you’ve devoted so much time to it, why was It left in this drafty, damp barn?”

Waverly’s smile dimmed. “Oh. Champ - you met him yesterday - he didn’t like how much space it took up in our flat, so we moved it up here out of the way.”

“Oh.” Nicole said quietly. “That’s a shame.”

“Yeah. Plus he said all these dead guys looking at him killed his boner.” Waverly wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know why I told you that bit.”

“Wish ya’ hadn’t.” Nicole chuckled. “You want to come in and check everything’s still there?”

Waverly bit her lip. “I’d like that.”

They walked in silence back into the sunlight and into the main house. Waverly saw the work Nicole had done in the last 24 hours - the bin liners full of dead leaves and the detritus left by time, and several empty bottles of cleaning products. As they ascended the stairs and entered a room, Waverly swallowed heavily. 

This was her room; her childhood bedroom. The furniture was all but gone, only a half-rotten rocking chair in one corner and the heavy bedstead left behind after the family fled. The curtains were open, and the window had been forced a crack, letting the fresh air ease the musty stench of dust. In the far corner, Waverly recognised the boxes and crates that held her most precious belongings; on the mattress-less bed, there was a purple sack and a pillow, both new looking. Blinking, she realised that Nicole must have set up camp there.

“Sorry, I kind of commandeered this room for my own.” The other woman grinned sheepishly. “This house can be kind of weird at night, and this room has such a comforting feeling for some reason.”

“It was my room.”

“Sorry?”

Waverly cleared her throat. “This was my room.”

Nicole blinked, a warm smile growing on her face. “I didn’t realise you actually lived here. That makes Gus your...”

“Aunt. And my sister, Wynonna, is the one your doing all this for.” Waverly gestured at the room around them. 

“What about you?”

“Oh, Champ and I live above the bar. It’s...cozy.” Waverly said, hiding a grimace as she pictured the cramped bedsit which had her and her husband constantly tripping over each other.

“Well.” Nicole said, her smile faltering. “You don’t mind me taking over your old room for a bit? I think I moved through every room in this building last night, and this was the only one I felt even remotely comfortable in.”

“Not at all.” Waverly smiled. “It’s nice to see it being lived in.” They beamed at each other.

“So, you want to talk me through your research?” Nicole said eventually, breaking eye contact.

“You really want to hear?” Waverly asked with an incredulous snort.

“I’d love to.” Nicole insisted. “I’d love to hear everything about you.” Catching herself, she coughed, feeling stupid. “About your research.”

————————————————————

It wasn’t that Nicole found the topic uninteresting. She hadn’t been lying when she told Waverly that the scraps she’d already read had been fascinating. It was just, it was hard to focus when the person explaining the lineage of the local ‘old’ families or the number of notches on Wyatt Earp’s gun looked like Waverly Hardy.

Her eyes were shining as she talked, bubbling with intelligent excitement, in a way that Nicole had never experienced. Every now and then she’d hit a particularly interesting fact and grab hold of Nicole’s hands, and the warmth would sear her skin long after the touch ended. Then there was the scent; she wasn’t sure if it was Waverly’s perfume or her natural smell, but it was a sort of floral earthiness that made Nicole think longingly of spring and deep forests.

“I’m boring you.”

Nicole snapped out of her reverie to see Waverly slowly re-packing a file of yellowing newspaper clippings into a dusty cardboard box. She looked sad, and resigned. Without thinking, Nicole shot her hand out and gently pressed the younger woman’s forearm.

“You are _not_ boring me.” Nicole said firmly, trying to convey with her tone the truth of her words. “I could listen to you talk all day. I’m sorry I was a little distracted.”

“It’s ok. It’s probably been a big upheaval for you, coming here.” Waverly asked tactfully, still staring at where Nicole’s hand was burning a tattoo into her skin. 

“You have no idea.” The redhead chuckled, taking back her hand. 

“What were you doing before?” The brunette asked, trying not to pry but desperate for more information.

“Oh, this and that.” Nicole frowned, not wanting to admit that she couldn’t exactly recall. Fumbling around, she found a memory. “Security work, mainly.”

“That’s quite a change to go from security to house building.” Waverly said, surprised.

“Yeah, It sure is. But I needed a change of scenery; my marriage ended badly, and when I saw this job offer in the paper, I just sort of leapt at it.”

“Why did your marriage end?” Waverly asked, before slamming her hand over her mouth. “That was nosy.”

“No it’s ok. Our needs were just too different, I guess.” Nicole shrugged, staring at her fingers. Strange, she thought, that she could recall every hideous row and bitter insult passed between herself and Shae, but little else about their lives together. 

“I can empathise with that.” Waverly said caustically.

“You want to talk about it?” Nicole gently asked.

The barmaid shrugged weakly. “No, it’s nothing. It just feels sometimes like everything is wrong, you know? Like, this can’t really be my life. Like I’ve taken a huge step backwards, but when I look around, I’m still stuck in the same place as I’ve always been.”

“I understand.”

“You do?” Waverly asked, looking up into sympathetic brown eyes.

“Yeah, of course.” Nicole gave a half smile. “I think everyone feels that way from time to time. But you aren’t stuck, Waverly. You’re intelligent, fun, sweet, beautiful...you have everything going for you, and I know you can achieve anything if you put your mind to it.” 

Waverly felt herself wobble at the sincerity in the words. “Yeah?”

“Yes, Waverly, god yes.” Nicole nodded. “I know we don’t really know each other, but I can tell. And in the mean time, if you ever need a place to escape to, you can come here, to me. Even if just to vent.”

“Thank you, Nicole.” 

During the course of Nicole’s speech, they’d moved closer together. Waverly shivered slightly, feeling the warmth of the older woman’s breath on her skin. It was a strange, unexpected impulse, but in that moment Waverly wanted nothing more than to press her lips to Nicole’s, to feel the veracity of her statement in the taste she would find there. It felt inevitable, and right, and it was only with conscious effort that she pulled herself away.

“Oh, gosh. I’d better get off. Champ will be on his break soon and I need to take him some lunch.”

Nicole laughed, the sound brittle, her eyes focusing firmly on her own hands where they sat in her lap. “Yes you definitely should in that case. Wouldn’t want Purgatory’s finest wasting away.”

Waverly giggled, but even to her own ears it sounded forced. “Bye then.”

Nicole gave a small wave, but made no move to leave the bedroom, sat cross-legged on the uncomfortable bare board of the bed with an expression of sorrow and confusion. With a final glance over her shoulder, legs shaking, Waverly bounded down the stairs, racing from the house and into her Jeep, where she could finally fill her lungs with air that didn’t smell like vanilla and longing.

Her mind was running a hundred miles a second, trying to work out what had just happened, and why it had felt so normal compared to the dry kisses that she’d been sharing with her own real-life husband, and it was for that reason that it took a moment for her to register the apple.

It sat proudly on her dashboard; there was no note, or indication of how it got there. Just one shiny red apple, waiting for her. Unbidden, her eyes tracked back to the homestead. 

“When did she get time to sneak you in here?” Waverly muttered, picking the fruit up and inspecting it with mirth. Her stomach grumbled at the sight, and when she pulled over to eat the gifted Braeburn halfway home, thinking of the woman she left behind her as she ate each bite, she told herself that it was just for the hunger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hardly any plot in this Chapter, just Wayhaught staring lovingly into each other’s eyes for 2480 words. And I’m ok with that.


	4. Chapter 4

Wynonna Earp would never tell her stoic aunt, but she loved the little cottage garden that ran around the McCready farm; she knew that while Gus herself wouldn’t admit it out loud, for all her grumbling, the older woman had loved her husband Curtis deeply and had channelled her grief at his passing into tending the garden he adored. Most of the food that came to their table was fresh grown right outside the back door, and there had been many a summer evening meal eaten at the wrought-iron table next to Curtis’s unusual grave, tucked between the tomato plants and cabbages. It was the widow’s favourite place to be, and it was rapidly becoming the Earp girls’ too.

Sipping her coffee as she stood at the window, Wynonna smiled to see them chasing each other around. The toddler had recently found her legs, and now there was no stopping her; chubby little pins would move like pistons as she propelled herself with surprising speed wherever she wanted to go, usually shrieking in joy as she went. 

“Darlin’, auntie Gus gotta sit down for a sec.” she heard her aunt call, slumping onto the grass with a grunt, her steely eyes never leaving the baby in her care. “I am not as young as I used to be.” Alice didn’t turn round, lost in her own world, but a moment later she must have seen something - a butterfly maybe, or a fly - because her drunken wobbling became much more focused, and she trundled towards the fence line, waving her arms. 

“You stay where Gus can see ya’, sweet pea.” Her great aunt called mildly.

Wynonna rolled her eyes, and turned to get another cup of brew. She remembered the Gus she’d grown up with; a loving yet stern woman, with all the hard edges that a place like Purgatory could give a person. She’d seen hints of the gentleness beneath with Waverly, but Alice had made the woman practically _soft_. She’d even caught her singing quietly to the child, rocking the baby to sleep; it was a mournful Emmylou Harris tune about a woman dying poor and miserable, but it was still _singing_. It still _counted._

Moving back to the window, Wynonna raised the cup towards her lips, inhaling the steam. She hesitated, rubbing her eyes to check she wasn’t seeing things. There, sprawled delicately in the McCready’s well tended garden, was a woman. She had skin the colour of mocha, a loose fitted twenties style dress, and a beautiful smile plastered across her perfect lips. Alice was sat in her lap, calmly drinking from a purple sippy cup that the stranger held in a thin bejewelled hand. 

Wynonna was already at the door before the mug hit the tiles, yanking it open and sprinting across the grass towards her child. She stumbled over a bed planted with sprouts, feeling pain shoot through her knee, and crossed the remaining few feet on all fours, snatching up Alice in her orange romper suit and cradling her close to her chest. 

“What in the hell, Wynonna?!” Gus was on her feet and at her niece’s side in an instant, eyes frantically searching for the threat.

“Where is she? Where is she?” Wynonna howled, scrambling up with murder in her eyes. She held the crying child away from her so that she could check for injury, but could see nothing amiss other than significant distress at her mother’s outburst.

“Who?” Gus demanded.

“The woman! The woman who was feeding the baby!” 

Gus frowned, looking confused. “What woman? Wynonna, there was no one here.”

“She was _feeding_ the _baby_ With _fuck knows what_.” The Earp insisted, turning to hurry back towards the house. “Call the damn doctor, Gus.”

The doctor took what felt like forever to arrive. By the time he rolled up, an overweight and stressed-looking man with red cheeks and a harrowed expression, Alice had calmed down. She was sat on the kitchen floor, chattering happily away to herself as she ripped apart an old magazine. The doctor examined her carefully, the feeling of both Wynonna and Gus breathing down his neck helping to focus his mind. When he announced with relief that the child was fine albeit a little dehydrated, Wynonna slammed the alarmed man bodily into the wall next to the front door, and demanded that he check again.

“Ms Earp, I don’t know what to tell you! There is no sign of poisoning or indeed _any_ ill effect from whatever this mystery substance was. Alice is perfectly well, with the exception of the dehydration which should clear up with some sugar water.”

“If anything happens to my daughter-“ Wynonna began, her voice a threatening grumble, before Gus cut her off.

“-we’ll call.” The older woman said, dragging the haggard man out from under niece’s withering glare, and propelling him quickly through the exit. “Goodbye, Doctor. Thanks for coming.”

Returning to the room, Gus put her hands on her hips. “Jesus _Christ_ , Wynonna. Was that necessary?”

“Was it _necessary_?” The brunette hissed, pointing a shaking finger at the baby. “It wouldn’t have been if you’d been keeping a damn eye on her!”

“If I’d...” Gus looked incredulous. “How dare you. She never left my damn sight.”

“Oh, so you just let any Winnie Wander-In swan over here and feed her with the hell knows what? Is that your idea of looking after my child?” 

Gus paled. “You don’t get to say that to me. I’ve been here for her from day dot, which is a damn sight more than you have. I love her like she was m’own. I’d never let anyone hurt her.”

The tension was palpable; Wynonna hadn’t realised it, but in the heat of the argument, they’d moved closer, almost nose to nose, eyes unblinking and wearing mirror-image heated scowls. On the table, Alice began to sniff, her tummy rumbling. Without breaking eye contact, Gus reached for the box of rusks at her elbow, removed a biscuit, and pressed it into the child’s fingers. Alice looked confused, glancing between the cookie and her great aunt, before squeezing hard enough that it fell to crumbs.

“If you were watching her,” Wynonna hissed through her teeth, “who was that woman?”

“There was no woman.” Gus growled back. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but there was no one in that garden but me and the little ‘un.”

Wynonna groaned angrily, throwing up her hands. Gus didn’t flinch. “Fuck this, I’m out. Until you can give me a straight god damn answer, I’m leaving.”

“Fine.” Gus strode away with nonchalance, footsteps echoing down the hall and up the stairs, before returning a few moments later with stacks of wall paper samples in her arms. “You can take this up to the Homestead, god only knows I don’t need you hanging around here making accusations all day.”

“Fine.” Wynonna’s shrugged petulantly, grabbing the stack of samples in one arm and the squirming child in the other. “But I’m taking Alice with me.”

“Fine.” Gus rolled her eyes, deeply familiar with her niece’s dramatic streak and unwilling to give her the satisfaction of a full blown row. 

“Fine.” Wynonna agreed loudly, stomping out of the room.

Left alone, Gus walked to the window that faced the vegetable garden. It was empty, save for a few lazy bees drifting between the last blooms of summer. The tree line, the same that she’d been looking at since she was a mere girl of 22, seemed closer than she remembered. Darker. If she squinted, she thought she could make out a figure, standing in the shadows, obscured by low hanging branches. Biting her thumb, she stared at it for a long while, but it didn’t move.

Glancing down at the smashed crockery where it lay on the tiled floor, the older woman sighed. _Typical Wynonna,_ she thought, _always leaving someone else to clear up the mess._ Casting her gaze one last time from the window, she went to fetch a broom, trying to ignore the suspicion that the shape she’d seen only moments earlier lurking at the edge of the forest had vanished.

————————————————————————

She’d been staring at the writing in the muck for half an hour, resisting the urge to leave and never come back. 

“‘Recall ’...’Recall’.” Nicole muttered out loud, reading the words for what felt like the thousandth time. 

She’d found the writing when she moved the decrepit couch in the living room of the Earp Homestead, scrawled in the dust. It looked fresh, and there wasn’t another mark anywhere near that suggested it had been written by human hands.

“Keep It together, Nicole.” She whispered to herself. “You’ve just been watching too many horror movies.” She hesitated, wrinkling her nose. “Which is exactly what people say in a horror movie, right before the demon arrives and rips out their spleen.”

“Who is ripping out who’s spleen?”

Nicole jumped, turning to the door with her fists raised. The woman standing there stepped back. “Whoa there Nelly. Who the hell are you and why are you in my house?”

“Your house?” Nicole asked incredulously.

The woman opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a shriek. Nicole noticed for the first time that a toddler was cradled in the woman’s arms, it’s plump cheeks and curly blonde hair making it look like a cherub on a cheap Christmas card. It was fixing Nicole with a calculating stare. Slowly, feeling foolish, she lowered her hands.

“Yes. I repeat,” the stranger said, looking frustrated, “who the hell are you?”

“I’m Nicole. Nicole Haught. Gus McCready hired me to renovate this house.”

“Oh.” The woman looked disappointed. “Kind of expected you to be a dude. A strong, muscular dude with like...man bits.”

Nicole shrugged. “I’ve got some muscles, if that makes you feel better.”

“Meh, it’s a start.” Juggling the baby and a large sheaf of papers, she held out her hand. “Wynonna Earp.”

Nicole shook it, and then bent down to eye level with the toddler. “And what’s your name, monkey?”

“Alice.” Wynonna smiled slightly. “Monkey. Her aunt calls her that.”

“Waverly?” Nicole said, mentally kicking herself for the amount of eagerness in her voice at the suggestion of her new friend.

“That’s the bunny. You met her?” Wynonna lowered Alice carefully to the ground, before unceremoniously dumping the scraps onto the sofa. 

“I popped into Shorty’s, met her and the husband.” Nicole grinned when Wynonna pulled a face. “Not a fan of Mr Hardy?”

“Please. He’s not good enough for my baby girl.” Wynonna glanced around the room. “Not started then, eh?”

Nicole swallowed a retort, reminding herself that this was the niece of her employer. “Well, you know, it’s only day 3. Just getting my bearings.”

“Chillax, I’m not a grass. Your secrets safe with me...skivving off, sneaking out to the bars, writing creepy messages on the floor...” Wynonna shook her head, tipping her head towards the word in the dust. “No judgement.”

“Hah. Good one.” Nicole gritted her teeth. “So, do you want a coffee and then you can talk me through these.” She pointed to the settee where a sheet of tartan print was drooping to the floor.

“Black, no sugar.” Wynonna flumped down onto the seat, a cloud of dust rising up around her. In the corner of the room, Alice chuckled at empty air. 

————————-———————————————-

They’d tried to calm the baby with a huge set of jingly keys, a white noise track on Spotify, two different kinds of cookies, a game of peek-a-boo, bread, squash, dried fruit...nothing worked. She was howling like a banshee, her tiny angel face folded in pain as she sobbed, her skin turning red with the energy it took. 

“Ok, monkey.” Nicole said when she could stand no more, scooping the child into her arms and heading towards the kitchen, Wynonna following with her face in her hands. “How about we go through the pantry, and _you_ can decide what you want.”

They wandered into the small walk-in cupboard, Alice’s tears turning the collar of Nicole’s polo shirt wet. Whatever Nicole held up only served to upset the child more, a look of betrayal in her damp eyes. 

“Jesus crackers, baby doll.” Wynonna reached out and pulled the toddler from the other woman’s arms, before exiting the larder. “Just tell us what you need.”

Nicole turned to follow, hand already reaching for the light switch when she saw an item she hadn’t seen before. “‘Honey oat bars’.” She read aloud, turning the plastic wrapped pack of 4 to read the ingredients. She didn’t remember buying them; she didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, and when she did get a craving for sugar, she tended to cut out the middle man and go straight for the Cadbury’s. Her train of thought was interrupted by another piercing scream from the living room. 

“Here you go, monkey, how about one of these?” She asked, hurrying in with the cakes held in an outstretched hand. Alice looked at them, her cries slowing down, and then made a grabby motion with both hands, her eyes wide and focused. 

“Damn it, Haught, give her the cake.” Wynonna snapped when Nicole met her eyes, looking for permission. Ripping open the packet, she handed an oblong to the child. It was firm and sticky, and Alice crammed as much into her mouth as she could, her newly minted teeth chomping away with unbridled enthusiasm.

“Wow, they must be good.” Nicole chuckled, offering Alice a second when the first flapjack disappeared. Next to her, Wynonna’s stomach growled loudly. “Here, try one.” Nicole pushed the third cake into Wynonna’s hand, before splitting the last in half for herself and Alice to share. 

“Thanks.” Wynonna said gratefully, her mouth full. “I’ve been hungry like a mother for days.”

Nicole nodded as she chewed, watching the baby grinning up at her with warmth spreading through her chest. Wiping the sugar residue on her shirt, she reached over to stroke the child’s hair softly, smiling down at her. 

From the window, under the brim of an old fashioned hat, a man watched them eat. He smirked, stroking his moustache in victory. 

—————————————————————————

When Wynonna left, having explained in vague language and half-hearted gestures what decoration was to go where, Nicole swept the floor, removing any trace of the creepy words that had been written there. Spending the afternoon with Wynonna and Alice had perked up her spirits, and driven away any doubt that the nervousness she was feeling was all stress driven. It was probably kids, she’d reasoned with herself, breaking into an abandoned old house to play pranks on the unlucky contractor.

Throwing the broom down so that she could sweep the pile she’d made into a black bag, she shivered, feeling a sudden unexpected chill run through her body. Outside, the sky way still blue, the sun still shining down as evening closed in. She got to her feet, eyes craning to see if the back door was open to let in a draft - and saw him.

He was about her height, well built, and dressed all in black, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. The cowboy hat obscured his face, but not the gun at his hip or the blade in his hand. Although she couldn’t see his eyes, she could tell that he was staring right at her.

“Freeze!” She yelled confidently, turning to reach for the poker that lay across the rusty wood burning stove. Twisting back round, metal bar held in her hand, she was shocked to see the intruder had gone. He hadn’t made a sound. “Shit.” She hissed, sprinting from the room in the direction of the back entrance. The door was swinging open, and on the other side of the frosted glass she could just see a shadow; without thinking, she careered through, swinging the poker. 

The garden was empty, as were the fields beyond. There was no way, Nicole’s subconscious offered helpfully as she turned frantically in circles, that anyone human could have escaped that quick. The only sound was the squawking of a buzzard in the distance, and there were no visible footsteps in the dirt to offer an indication of where the man had disappeared to. Suddenly, being outside, alone, in that vast, open wilderness seemed like a terrible idea.

As she locked the door behind her, she failed to notice the letter “R” carved haphazardly at chest height into the painted wood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I was imagining Gus singing to Alice was Red Dirt Girl by Emmylou Harris, because I can’t imagine the indomitable Gus McCready singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star or some such shit...
> 
> I love Gus - desperately hoping she comes back in series 4.


	5. Chapter 5

Nicole sat at the bar, sipping on a beer. It felt good to be away from the house for a while, even if the only place she had to come was a dive bar in a town small enough that it got lost on the map. It was warm and alive, and if she was lucky, she’d get the benefit of seeing Waverly Hardy in all her glory.

It had been three days since the intruder stood in the doorway of the Earp homestead, knife in hand, and he hadn’t been seen since. Even the voices seemed to have trailed off after the incident. It didn’t help the anxiety though. Something felt very wrong, and Nicole couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe she was getting sick.

“You want another beer?” Gus asked, strolling over with her eyebrow raised. Without waiting for permission, she slid onto the stool next to Nicole.

“I’m good with this one, thank you.” The redhead smiled, waving the bottle.

“You won’t get far in this town with that attitude.” Gus snorted, gesturing Shorty for a drink.

“Well, I doubt I’ll be staying long enough for that to be an issue.”

The older woman eyed her thoughtfully. “We’ll see. You made quite an impression on my nieces.” Shorty placed a large glass of red wine on the counter, sending the widow a wink which garnered a semi stern eye roll.

“A good one?” Nicole asked playfully.

“We’ll see.” Gus hummed, taking a mouthful of wine.

—————————————————————-

In hindsight, Waverly would not be able to find an excuse for the excitement she felt in her gut at seeing the Police cruiser parked opposite Shorty’s, engine running and soft music drifting from the open window. It was an unthinking, unreasonable escalation of her heart beat, an unexplainable Pavlovian reaction to an otherwise unremarkable event. 

It lasted for less than 10 seconds, before her eyes caught up with what they were seeing and she realised that the body in the passenger seat had very long, very blonde, very feminine hair. It was easy to see from the hands enthusiastically wrapped in the unknown woman’s locks and the steam on the inside of the window what was going on. Jealousy seethed in Waverly’s stomach, roiling up and making her eyesight blurry and her muscles tense.

Striding over, she wrenched open the passenger side door, her face awash with thunder. “What the _fuck_ is going on here?”

The couple in the car broke apart; Waverly recognised the mystery blonde as a honky tonk girl who had come into Shorty’s on occasion. She was pretty, but young and a little over-keen. She wiped frantically at the lipstick smeared over her mouth, eyes wide in fear. Next to her, Champ had the decency to look embarrassed.

“Babe it’s not what it looks-“ he began.

“Oh-ho-ho, I know what it is, Champ Hardy. Her rouge is all over your damn face!” Waverly growled. Looking down at the girl, she gestured with a thumb over her shoulder. “Get out of my husbands car, slag. Go on, get!”

The kid scrambled out, and Waverly felt momentarily guilty; she did look very young under the warm glow of the street lights, as she scuttled away down the street.

“Babe, please, I can explain.” Champ began, grabbing Waverly’s hand and trying to pull her into the passenger seat. “Just get in the car and we can talk.”

Waverly yanked her arm back. “Screw you, Champ. I hope you liked her a lot, because you’re fucking stuck with her now. I don’t want you anywhere near me!” She marched away from the car without looking back, ignoring his pleas and protestations. She tried not to think about the feeling of relief she’d felt when she opened the door and realised it was Champ cheating on her again and not...

Well, she didn’t know who else she was expecting; there were only 3 squad cars in the town, plus the antique, diesel-chugging riot van that got wheeled out on the first day of hunting season and was probably the cause of at least one hole in the o-zone layer. 

Stomping into the saloon, Waverly didn’t even look around. Her eyes glowing with unspent rage, she charged up to the bar and demanded a shot. Looking nervous, Shorty poured one, sliding It gingerly across the bar as though expecting to get bitten. Waverly slammed it back, and tapped the glass on the counter aggressively until it was refilled.

“Now I know we raised ya better than that, girl.” Gus said, leaning her folded arms on the bar.

“Thank you, Shorty.” Waverly gritted out.

“What’s got you all riled up?” Gus asked. Behind them, the main door slammed back, revealing a desperate looking Champ. The remnants of pink lipstick ran down his neck, disappearing under his police shirt. “Or should I say ‘who’?”

“God damn it, Waverly!” The Officer called, striding down the steps until he stood directly behind his wife. “That wasn’t what you think.”

Waverly didn’t look up from her glass. “Just go away, Champ. I don’t even want to look at you right now.”

He threw his hands in the air. “Where the hell do you expect me to go?” He demanded, looking around at the gathering spectators for support. “This is my home! You’re my wife.”

“I don’t care!” Waverly hissed, turning to face him, her finger jabbing at his chest. “Anywhere but here! Go stay with the floozy who’s bloody lipstick you’re wearing for all I care!”

“You’re being _irrational_.” Champ growled, grabbing Waverly’s wrist to stop the incessant poking.

“Get your hands off me!” Waverly snarled back, struggling against his hold. It was a familiar scene, one she remembered playing out hundreds of times in their youth, and none of the patrons around them seemed surprised. Even Gus just rolled her eyes, before glaring pointedly at Champ, ready to step in if things escalated. No one was keen to get involved in an oft repeated domestic dispute.

“I believe the lady asked you to leave.”

No one but Nicole. Waverly stopped squirming, her eyes wide as the redhead folded herself slowly and menacingly off her stool. She was wearing a yellow flannel shirt, rolled up to the sleeves, and Waverly watched the muscles in her forearms flex as she rolled her shoulders and gripped her belt buckle.

“And I believe it’s none of your damn business.” Champ scoffed. He did, however, let go of Waverly’s arm.

“I’m making it my business.” Nicole continued, stepping calmly into Champ’s space. The expression in her eyes was cold and calculating, and at such close proximity, Waverly saw Champ swallow. “So leave.”

The bar was tensely silent, as with many people holding their breath.

“Fuck this.” Champ said loudly, throwing his hands into the air in frustration before making a beeline for the door. 

Waverly watched him go with mixed feelings. It wasn’t that she thought for a second that she needed saving; indeed, if Nicole had been anyone else, she’d probably have received the full force of Waverly’s opinions on the matter. It was just that seeing Nicole standing so tall, being so commanding, had been...nice. 

She cleared her throat. “Wow, uh...”

“I’m sorry.” Nicole said, looking sheepish, her hands thrusting into her jean pockets. “I know you didn’t need my help, I just...didn’t like how he was treating you.”

“It’s ok. I didn’t like how he was treating me either.” Waverly responded, a sudden image of the young blonde woman with her lipstick smudged across her pale skin flashing through her mind. “He did it again, Gus.”

“Oh honey, I guessed.” Gus said with a sympathetic smile. “That boy don’t know when he got a good thing.”

“I just really believed he wouldn’t cheat on me again. I thought he’d grown out of that when we...” Waverly’s brow wrinkled in slight confusion, her thoughts suddenly hazy. “Got married?” She finished slowly, trying the phrase in her mind again to make it fit better.

“Wait. _He_ ,” Nicole said incredulously, “cheated on _you_?”

“Yep.” Waverly answered, suddenly feeling very tired. Her eyes burned like they wanted to cry, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of Champ’s infidelity, or the general feeling of wrongness that had plagued her for days. “What am I going to do, Gus?”

“Well, you can’t stay here.” Gus said bluntly. “He’ll be back soon enough, prob’ly drunk if I know Champ Hardy.”

“I’ll stay with you and Wynonna?” Waverly said, perking up a little at the thought.

“You will not.” Gus said in a matter-of-fact voice. Waverly’s face dropped. “You’ll go stay at the Homestead with Nicole, get some space to clear your head.”

“I don’t-“ Nicole began.

“I don’t think that’s-“ Waverly started to object.

“That’s settled then.” Gus said, picking up her half empty glass and taking a swig. “Go pack a bag before your husband gets back.”

Closing her mouth and accepting defeat, Waverly turned and walked towards the stairs. She had never been very good at arguing with her aunt; the woman had a fast but fair way about her, and once her mind was made up, changing it was like trying to turn the Ocean tides.

“Gus, are you-“ 

“You seem like a good woman.” Gus interrupted Nicole, fixing her with a hard stare. “I know you’ll take care of her for me, and she needs to be out of that flat for a time. Give her chance to work out what she really wants.”

“Of course, I would never-“ 

“Because if I find out you _haven’t_ been looking after my niece - the niece I practically raised from knee high - then there won’t be a place you can run to where I won’t find ya.” The older woman finished, her voice almost even. “Understood?”

Nicole gulped. Placing her hand on her heart, she nodded firmly. “Yes m’am, loud and clear.” 

“Good kid.” Gus said absently, blankly staring into the mirror over the bar to where Shorty bustled between the tables, chatting amicably with his customers. “Good kid.” She mumbled again, voice low enough that Nicole almost missed that she’d spoken at all.

—————————————-————————-

The drive to the homestead was quiet, the sound of the local radio station playing Country and Western ballads only serving to augment the silence. Waverly has been lost in thought since she settled in the passenger seat of Nicole’s car, staring out of the window even after they reached the edge of town and all there was to see was darkness.

When they arrived, Nicole grabbed Waverly’s overnight bag without a word, and unlocked the front door. “Do you want a drink or are you ready for bed?”

“A drink would be good. I don’t think I’m ready to try and sleep yet. My minds moving too quick.”

“I’ve got beer? Or tea? Or water, but it’s out of the bottle. I want to give the pipes a run through before letting anyone drink from the tap.”

“Water would be good. I’m parched.” Waverly asked, smiling weakly as she sunk onto the dirty old couch.

When Nicole handed her the bottle, the brunette downed it in three gulps, frowning that it did nothing to quench her thirst. With a quiet smile, Nicole handed her a second bottle.

“Thanks.”

“Waverly, can I ask you a question?” The redhead said after a moment. Waverly nodded, and she continued. “Why are you with him?”

“He’s my husband.” Waverly said simply, not understanding the question.

“I know that but...why are you with him?” Nicole asked again, her brown eyes dark under the weak amber light of the naked bulb above them.

“I...I don’t know.” Waverly admitted. “I’ve been asking myself that same question.”

Nicole shuffled closer on the couch, placing a hand over Waverly’s where it rested on the younger woman’s knee. “Does he...does he hurt you?”

“No.” Waverly said quickly. Champ was many things, but he’d never raised a violent hand to her. “Not physically. He isn’t even unkind, really, except for the cheating. We just...On paper, we’re perfect. The perfect match. But in reality, we’re no good for each other. We’re too different and I guess he feels the same, or he wouldn’t wander. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

“Oh Waverly.” Nicole said. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re an amazing person, and you deserve someone who will treat you with all the respect and sweetness you deserve, not just someone who manages not to be a total asshole to you most of the time. Seems to me that Champs acted like a total shithead.”

Waverly snorted. “Not many people in this town would agree.”

“Then they’re shitheads too.” Nicole said firmly.

Waverly chuckled, sipping her drink. The way Nicole was looking at her, with all the fervour and belief that Waverly had never expected from anyone at all, was a balm on the sores of the last few confusing days.

“When you speak like that, you make me believe it.” She said quietly.

“Good.” Nicole reached a gentle hand to brush a stray lock of hair from Waverly’s face. “It’s true.”

“You...would you?” Waverly whispered, leaning into the touch of Nicole’s hand where it still rested against her cheek.

“Would I what?” 

“Treat me like that?”

Nicole let out a breath. “Waves, I know we haven’t known each other for long, but trust me when I say I’d do _anything_ for you.”

Taking Nicole’s hand into her lap, dragging the pads of her fingers over the work roughened skin, Waverly allowed herself to shift closer. The redhead’s body felt warm and inviting, and when her lips ghosted over Nicole’s, it took no thought to press forwards the final millimetre and brush a light, lingering kiss to the woman’s mouth.

It was Nicole who pulled away, eyes closed. She rested her forehead on Waverly’s, a dreamy smile on her face. “I want you.” 

Waverly exhaled. “I want you too.”

“But...” Nicole continued. “We can’t. It wouldn’t be right. Not when you’re upset and...and...”

“Married.” Waverly agreed. On her finger, the wedding band felt suddenly impossibly heavy.

“Married.” Nicole nodded, moving back. She looked resigned, but something like need still flickered across her face; Waverly stared at their still joined hands, gulping down the tears that were threatening once again to spill, guilt, frustration and fatigue suddenly looming large. “But...”

Waverly looked up with hope. “But what?”

Nicole sucked her lips into her mouth, regarding the barmaid with such visible insecurity that it made Waverly’s tender heart ache. “Let me stay with you tonight? Just to sleep? It’s ok if you don’t want to or if you think it would be weird, I just-“

Cutting off the opening ramble, Waverly stood, pulling Nicole off the sofa with her. “Please.” She whispered. “Please.”

When they went to bed that night, snuggled inside Nicole’s thick, warm sleeping bag, it was wrapped in each other’s arms, legs tangled together, breath mixing. They slept sounder than they had in what felt like an eon, the world outside feeling very far away as only it can for people in love.

They slept so soundly in fact, that they didn’t notice when a strange woman with an impossibly elegant air let herself into the room, sliding into the damp-rotted rocking chair to watch over the bed. Her eyes, almost black, watched the sleeping couple as she delicately cleaned her long fingernails, ignoring the feeling of hunger brewing in her gut that was exacerbated by the gorgeous stench of their warm, pliant bodies.

After an hour, the door opened again. She didn’t avert her eyes from the bed, it’s occupants slumbering on unawares of the hunter sat less than a metre away, salivating in a ladylike fashion.

“I have planted more nourishment about the town.” The newcomer said lowly, stoking his moustache. “It is however a hardship to get them to eat it.”

“It’s easier with the little ones.” The woman responded. “They trust anyone bearing gifts. It’s like no one in this forsaken place told their spawn about Stranger Danger.”

“The better for us.” The man shrugged.

“I’m hungry. I need to feed.” 

“Not yet, Contessa. They’re weak. We take anything from these people now and I fear they will die.” 

“Some of them deserve worse.” The woman shrugged, unimpressed, examining her nails in the moonlight.

“Soon.” The cowboy lifted his hat from his head, running a hand through greasy black hair. “This can’t go on forever.”

“It won’t.” She agreed with another nonchalant lift of her shoulders. “They’re already dying.”

“Soon.” The man repeated, a flash of pain in his icy blue eyes.

On the bed in front of them, the two women dreamed of snow and hunger, and endlessly loving embraces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nicole Haught acting hench but respectful: more please.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Toot toot* All aboard the angst train!

Waverly awoke with the birds. They’d made a nest in the damaged eaves of the house, and she lay very still for a time listening to them greet the new day and to the sound of her bedmate’s gentle snoring, while she tried to untangle her thoughts. Outside, the darkness still ruled, but Waverly didn’t have any energy to waste worrying about that, not when Nicole Haught was huffing gentle sleepy breaths into her hair, and her hand was resting on the muscled V that ran between Waverly’s hip and pubic bone. 

It should, Waverly felt, have come as more of a shock, the fizzling, undeniable attraction she felt to this virtual stranger who was currently curled possessively around her smaller frame. Questioning your sexuality - that’s a big thing. Even small town Waverly knew it was a big thing. But in between the first sight of the redhead, fingering that ridiculous old Stetson in the doorway of the bar, and waking up with the scent of the woman in her nostrils and coating her skin, Waverly had realised that whatever this was brewing between them felt _right_ in the same way everything else in her life suddenly felt _wrong_. The guilt she felt about sleeping in another person’s arms while her husband lay alone in their marital bed was, if she was honest, purely intellectual, and massively outweighed by the feeling of innocent happiness the act had given her. It was all very confusing - but not for the reasons Waverly felt that it should have been. In her sleep, Nicole stirred, tugging Waverly closer with strong, gentle arms. Abandoning her musings, Waverly sighed contentedly and snuggled into the other woman’s embrace.

———————————————————

The banging on the door started around 8. Waverly had once again fallen into a much-needed slumber, and the ruckus was like cold water to the face. Nicole shot up, her arm going protectively over Waverly’s torso while she fumbled with the other at her hip for a weapon that wasn’t there. “Wha’ t’ fu’?” She mumbled, throat hoarse.

“Waverly! I know you’re in there! Carl heard you talking to Gus!” Champ’s voice rang out from the front porch. Waverly groaned.

“It’s so _early_ , why couldn’t he just let us sleep?” She grumbled, moving to lay her head in Nicole’s lap, and staring up at the red head with big brown eyes.

“Do you want me to get rid of him?” Nicole asked as she rubbed sleep from her eyes and began stroking Waverly’s hair tenderly.

“Can’t we just pretend he isn’t here?” Waverly smiled as she leaned into Nicole’s touch.

The older woman opened her mouth to respond, just as the hammering on the door downstairs started again. “Damn It Waverly! Come down here or I’m breaking this door down!”

Waverly sighed, and sat up. “I’d better go talk to him.”

“I’ll go with you.” Nicole said, already rolling off the bed and pulling on her jeans over the tight fitted boxers she’d worn to bed. Waverly ogled without shame as pale, smooth skin disappeared under blue denim, a long sleeved cashmere jumper held limply in her own fingers. “You putting that on or are you just going to watch me get dressed instead?” Nicole grinned, reaching for the flannel she’d worn the night before. 

“I-“

From downstairs came the sound of crashing, as of someone kicking a very old, very heavy door, followed by cursing.

“I thought he was kidding about breaking the door down.” Nicole said, hurrying to the window to see Champ hopping on one foot, holding the other in both hands.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Waverly said mildly, not hurrying as she pulled on a pair of clean socks. “When we first moved into the flat, we had a steaming row and I locked him out. He tried to kick the door in then.”

“He kicked the door in?” Nicole frowned.

Waverly rose from the bed, stuffing her pyjama bottoms into the overnight bag she’d brought with her. “He _tried_ to. It’s harder than it looks in the movies. He sprained his ankle instead and Shorty had to drive him to the hospital.”

“What a clown.” Nicole muttered, glancing back out at Champ who was trying to lever a half brick out of the dirt. “We should get down there, I think he’s about to put a window through.” She continued, louder.

They traipsed downstairs, the grim feeling that Nicole recognised as having followed her since she first arrived settling once again around them like spider webs, clingy and distasteful. It took all her willpower not to drag Waverly behind her as they reached the front door; Waverly Hardy was kind and intelligent and gentle, but she was also hard as flint, and she didn’t need Nicole or anyone else fighting her battles for her.

The younger woman wrenched the door open just as Champ drew his arm back, poised to smash the glass nearest the front door. He jumped at the motion, fumbling the brick. It hit the swollen wood of the porch with a dense _thunk_.

“Champ.” She said calmly, folding her arms across her chest. “You had better not be doing what I think you are.”

“I was desperate.” He answered unapologetically. “We need to talk.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.” Waverly responded cooly.

“Waves, you’re blowing this out of proportion.” He sighed, as though talking to a child having a tantrum over a dropped treat. “It was just a moment of weakness. She didn’t _mean_ anything.”

“You cheated on me!” Waverly snapped, resisting the urge to stamp her foot. “We’re married and you cheated on me!”

“It was just a kiss!” Champ shouted back, gesticulating wildly.

“Only because I turned up when I did!” 

“This is ridiculous-“ Champ stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing at the gloom inside the house where Nicole hung back, not wanting to intrude but not comfortable leaving Waverly’s side. “Of course you’re here.” He glowered.

“Nicole brought me home after the bar.” Waverly said.

“Brought you _home_?” Champ sneered, rolling his eyes theatrically. “This isn’t your home, Waverly. Your home is with me, in our apartment.”

Waverly frowned, but said nothing. He was right of course. She hadn’t lived in this house since she was a child; she wasn’t sure why she’d thought of it as ‘home’ in that moment. _Because this is where she is_ , a treacherous voice inside her head whispered.

“Look, Champ, I just need some time.” Waverly tried again. “I think it’s best if I stay here for a few days.”

“You can stay here as long as you need.” Nicole whispered, placing a reassuring hand on Waverly’s arm. The brunette gave a grateful smile.

“I’m trying to have a conversation with my wife.” Champ growled. “In private.”

“It’s ok, Nic.” Waverly said softly. “Why don’t you pop out?”

Nicole searched her face, before giving a slow nod. “Sure, I’ll just...pop out.” She slipped out of the door; Champ stepped aside to let her pass, the glare on his face not faltering.

“Waverly-“ he began.

“No, Champ. This is the last straw. Things haven’t felt right between us lately, and I don’t want to do this anymore.” Waverly’s voice was confident, firm. 

Champ heaved a sigh, his hands going to his hips as he stared at his wife in disbelief. “We’re married, Waves. We have a life together. I know things have been rocky, I’ve felt it too, but this,” he gestured round at the homestead, “this isn’t the answer. I mean, look at this place. It’s falling down, and that woman Gus has hired to fix it - I just don’t trust her.”

Waverly frowned. “Well I do.”

“Why?” Champ asked incredulously. “You don’t even know her. None of us do. She could be a serial killer, for all we know. I’m honestly shocked that Gus even let you come here.”

“She...she isn’t a serial killer.” Waverly said, looking over his shoulder to where Nicole was stacking broken wooden boards next to the barn. The redhead smiled comfortingly at her, giving a mock salute, and then disappeared inside.

“How do you know?” Champ asked, his voice sympathetic. “And even if she isn’t, I mean, you’re kind of in her way here.”

“I...I...” Waverly swallowed. “Nicole said she wanted me here.” She continued with uncertainty.

“Yeah, but she would, right?” The Officer said, tucking his thumbs under his belt and rocking on his heels. “You’re her boss’s niece. She isn’t about to turn you down.”

Waverly glanced at Nicole, her arms full of rotten wood as she walked out of the barn, face locked in concentration, and felt that familiar cold swelling in her belly. She thought of the kindness Nicole had shown with Waverly’s research, and how intrigued she’d seemed as Waverly rambled about it; remembered the softness of their kiss the night before, and the warm compliments she’d paid. The little critic who lived in her brain, the one planted by a childhood of neglect and boosted by every one of Champ’s betrayals, every single forgotten birthday and unkind slap-in-the-face that life sent her way, grinned in agreement. _Of course she was just being nice to the gaffer’s niece. She doesn’t actually care, idiot. Who would?_

“No, she said...” Waverly tried again, her voice small. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” Champ said soothingly, stepping into Waverly’s space to pull her into his chiselled arms. “It’s ok babe. You’ve still got me, right?”

“Right.” Waverly mumbled into the navy material of his police uniform.

“Let me take you home. You must be exhausted, stuck in this creepy old shack all night.” Champ said with a sweet smile.

Waverly looked up at him. She desperately wanted to stay; something about the house and the woman in it made sense - made everything else make sense too, like coming into a warm room from a terrible snowstorm. The thought of leaving, of driving away from the security she’d unexpectedly found in Nicole’s arms made her heart hurt. But the self-doubt was rapidly making her mind up for her, whittling away at her intentions. _He’s your husband. He’s the only one who will never leave you. Who will always come home._ her sub-conscious continued, shredding the last of her resolve with its razor sharp teeth. _This is your only choice; It’s this or being alone. Do you want to be alone?_

“Ok.” Waverly said quietly, wiping at her eyes and surprised to find they were damp with tears. “Let me just get my things.”

Champ grinned in triumph. As his wife shuffled forlornly up the stairs, he turned to face the yard. When his eyes met Nicole’s, he allowed a saccharine smile to coat his lips, jealousy mollified by the knowledge that he had won.

————————————————————-

Nicole watched the police car pull away, spraying a torrent of dirt over the chipped red paint of her Contour as it did so. In the passenger seat, Waverly stared at her with sad eyes, until the cruiser disappeared down the track out of sight.

She’d tried to persuade her to stay. They had known each other for barely more than a week, but something about the woman sparked Nicole’s protective urges, and the thought of her going back with the thoughtless, careless boy-man she called a husband was like poison on Nicole’s tongue. But Waverly had insisted that she had to go, that her place was with Champ, that they had to try for the sake of their marriage vows. And then, like a boxer delivering the knock out punch, Waverly had told Nicole that she didn’t want to be a bother, not when her aunt was paying so much for the work on the house. Nicole had felt that like a physical blow. _Of course it didn’t mean anything to her._ the little subconscious traitor in her head had whispered. _You’re just the help. A convenient distraction, and now you’ve served your purpose you can be put back to the real work._

That had quietened the remaining protests in her throat, and she’d meekly followed the brunette back downstairs and even held the door open for her as she went.

Standing stupidly on the porch with the dust swirling round her feet, dressed in last night’s clothes, her grubby work-dirtied hands hanging loosely at her sides, Nicole felt the bubbling, stewing, fiery crackle of regret burning her alive.

“This is wrong.” She whispered to the deserted landscape. “This is wrong!” She shouted, causing the crows watching from the roof to take flight, squawking indignantly. The regret was turning to anger. She wasn’t sure what at, exactly. It could be anything; this hard, badly paying job that she didn’t even recall asking for; the feeling of loss that she couldn’t pin on anything solid; the failed marriage she felt nothing for. Maybe it was just the sorrow she’d seen in Waverly’s eyes through the grimy glass of Champ’s cruiser. 

“Fuck!” She screamed, dropping to a squat. “Fuck Fuck Fuck!”

The rage boiled over, turning her eyesight hazy, and she grabbed the first thing that came to hand. It was a damp bit of wood, the surface slimy from its years rotting in the Earp’s barn. Mindless with anger, she stomped, still barefoot, into the ramshackle out-building. There was little left in there now; she’d cleared nearly everything out. The only thing she hadn’t been able to move was heaped sullenly in one corner - an old sit-on tractor, it’s metal so rusted and fused with age that she hadn’t been able to shift it an inch.

“Fuck you!” She hissed irrationally, smashing the plank into an already broken headlight. “Fuck you and fuck this fucking place!”

She continued hitting the innocent machinery until the board was broken into smithereens, her hands littered with splinters. Looking round frantically, her eyes landed on a mallet she’d left there the day before. Snatching it up, roaring her grief into the stale air, she swung.

“That’s not going to fix it.” A calm voice said from the doorway.

Startled out of her trance, Nicole spun round, eyes wild.

There, a disinterested expression on his face, stood the man she’d seen outside the Sheriff’s office on her first day in town. He was an older man, in his early 60s, plump round the middle and greying on top, with a heavy chevron moustache. Familiarity washed over Nicole, but she wasn’t sure how she could possibly know him.

“What?” She finally said, breathless.

“I said, a hammer won’t help you fix this.” He stepped into the barn, pointing lazily at the tractor. “It needs WD40 and elbow grease.”

Nicole blinked at the machine, then back to the gentleman. “What?” She said again.

The man sighed. “Randy Nedley. Sheriff.”

“Oh.” Nicole said, taking in the uniform. “Nicole Haught. Fixer upper, I guess?”

“You don’t sound too sure there.” Randy said mildly.

Nicole huffed, and then dropped the mallet. “No, I don’t think I am too sure about it.”

“Want to tell me why you’re assaulting this innocent vehicle?” Nedley asked, taking off his hat and leaning against the door.

Nicole eyed him, and found in surprise that she actually did want to tell him. “It’s...complicated.”

“Try me.” The man said, eyes unblinking. His expression suggested that nothing she said would be new or original, let alone shocking.

“You ever feel like your life isn’t your own? Like nothing makes sense anymore, and you’re just...adrift in someone else’s story?” She tried, hoping he might understand.

Randy Nedley sniffed. “Haught, that’s called being an adult. None of us know what the hell we’re doing or why the hell we’re doing it. You just get on.”

Nicole chuckled bitterly. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

They stood in silence for a moment, sizing each other up. “So what can I help you with, Sheriff?” 

Nedley shrugged, suddenly all business. “I’m just checking in on some of the farms nearby, the ones out of town a ways. We’ve had some unfortunate incidents in the locality and I just want to make sure everyone’s ok.”

“Incidents?” Nicole asked, brow furrowed.

“Yep.” Nedley sighed. “We’ve had some...unexplainable deaths.”

“Unexplainable how?” 

The Sheriff fixed her with a calculating stare. “People dying with not a mark on them, right in the middle of the street or their own front rooms. No medical history, no injuries. Seems like they’ve just...stopped.”

Nicole pursed her lips. “People don’t just stop, not regularly anyway. How many bodies we talking about?”

Randy looked down at his boots. “Twelve.”

“Twelve?” Nicole said slowly.

“So far.”

Nicole nodded. “Ok, let me get dressed and I’ll pitch in.”

Randy narrowed his eyes. “Pitch in?”

“Of course. You’ve got, what, four staff?”

“Six, including administration.”

“And how much ground to cover?” Nicole asked, already striding back towards the main house.

“Too much.” The man admitted.

“Well then.” The redhead said. “You’ll need all hands on deck.” Without waiting for a response, she ducked inside. 

Nedley watched her go with an unreadable expression. “Except you aren’t one of my hands and this ain’t your deck, Lady Jane.” He muttered to himself, trying to ignore the gut feeling screaming at him that he hadn’t ended up at the Earp Homestead by accident; he’d gone there for Nicole Haught.


	7. Chapter 7

When they arrived at the station, the first thing they saw was uproar. Wynonna was leaning across the reception desk, an Officer’s shirt gripped in one hand. On the other hung Waverly, trying to stop her sister knocking out the man’s teeth, and behind them stood Gus, shouting and pointing her finger at the luckless Officer. Champ hovered nearby, his voice raised in a petulant whine, but it was clear no-one was listening to him.

“What the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks is going on here?” Sheriff Nedley asked in a loud, authoritative voice. There was a moment of calm, each participant of the pandemonium in front of him stopping what they were doing to stare at the man for a heartbeat.

Then, in unison, they went right back to trying to kill each other. 

Nicole watched, open mouthed; then she grabbed one of the cheap plastic chairs that lined the wall, jumped onto it, and roared, “Hey!” at a volume that echoed down the halls and through the rooms beyond, startling the station into silence. “Thank you! Now, one at a time - what the _hell_ is going on?”

“Language, Nicole, language!” Nedley snapped, before gesturing to the older Earp to come forwards. “Wynonna, put Darren down and tell me what’s going on.”

The brunette dropped her handful of Darren’s shirt, yanking her arm away from Waverly’s grasp. Her face was like thunder as she crossed her floor to stand nose to nose with the Sheriff, and when she spoke her voice was low and dangerous. “My baby girls been taken, Nedley, and I’m damn well gettin’ her back with or without your flatfoots’ help.”

“Whoa whoa, pump the hate brakes there Wynonna.” Nedley said, hands held open in supplication. “Alice is missing?”

“She ain’t _missing_ , she’s been _taken_.” Turning back to her family she slapped her own forehead in theatrical frustration. “Why is no one listening to me?”

“We‘re right here Wynonna.” Gus said. “We’re right here and we just want to help. But no one saw her get taken. Could be she just wandered off.”

Wynonna looked affronted. “Oh yeah, sure. She’s a _baby_ , Gus, she can hardly freaking walk as it is.”

“Still.” Gus said, her face hard as steel. “I’m going to go back to the farm, search every nook and cranny.”

“You do that, Gus.” Nedley said. Pointing at Darren, he continued, “Officer Smith, you call up a 10-65, and open it up to the town. I want every capable man, woman and child over the age of 16 here within the hour for briefing, and get that Chetri kid issuing pictures all over social media. I want Alice’s picture on everyone’s IPhone, laptop and TV screen within the hour. Hardy, you, Waverly and Nicole start a sweep of the farmland and forest around Gus’s property. Make sure you’re marking it up, I don’t want us double bubbling here.”

“What about me?” Wynonna asked, straightening up.

“I’d tell you to wait here for news,” Nedley sniffed, “but I’ve known you since you were younger than Alice, and I know there’s more chance of the Toronto Maple Leafs calling and making me honorary captain.”

“You bet your ass.” Wynonna growled. “That’s my kid out there, I’m not sitting round here watching you play Sherlock Holmes while she’s missing. I’m going to Gus’s too.”

“Well ok then.” The Sheriff nodded, making approving eye contact with the people in front of him. After an awkward 30 seconds, he cleared his throat. “Let’s go people, don’t just stand there staring at me like a stack of lemons, go find that little girl!”

“Come on babe.” Champ said, taking Waverly’s hand. “We’ll go in my car.”

“We’ll _all_ go in your car. The quicker we get there and start searching the better.” Nicole corrected. She looked at Waverly, eyes turning serious. “I’m so sorry Waverly. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now, but we’re going to do everything in our power to bring Alice back safe and sound.” Waverly gave a weak smile, her eyes watery. 

“Yes, babe,” Champ said in a saccharine voice, putting his arms around his wife and pressing messy, wet kisses to her cheek. Nicole bit her tongue to keep from reacting, to keep back the overwhelming and completely unjustified urge to push him away and knock him on his ass for touching the young brunette. “I’m sure Alice is fine. She’s probably off playing in the woods or something. But...”

Nicole heard what was coming before he said it, but was too slow to intervene. “...we need to prepare for the very real possibility that she might not be found, or that she might be dead before we can get to her. The country stretches almost uninterrupted from here to the city, and the bears at this time of year-“

Waverly’s eyes went wide, and Nicole watched her face crumple in real time, folding in and shutting off as great heaving sobs wracked her body. Stepping forwards, Nicole placed a hand gently on the brunette’s shoulder. “Hey,” she said quietly, “we don’t need to think like that. She’s only been gone for what, a couple hours?”

Waverly nodded, her face held in her hands to stem the tears.

“That’s good, Waves.” Nicole said, gently prising Waverly’s hands away from her face. “99% of missing kids get found within a few hours, no harm done, especially when reported straight away. We just need to focus on our search up at Gus’s, and let Nedley handle the rest. Do you think you’re ok to do that?”

Waverly sniffed, wiping at her eyes. Nicole pulled a hanky from her jeans pocket and passed it over. “For Alice, I can.”

“We goin’?” A gruff voice behind them asked.

Seeing Wynonna up close made Nicole’s heart lurch. She hardly knew the woman, but in the short time they’d spent together, she’d come to recognise her as a stoic, careless, fearless joker; the kind of woman who looked danger and sorrow in the eye and responded with a quip and a wink. That wasn’t the woman standing in front of them now. Her eyes were red rimmed, her usually pale skin was an off-grey colour, and her brow was creased in worry. Nicole noticed that her lips were bruised and bitten, and her eyes were darting anxiously around the station. Searching, Nicole thought.

The ride to the McCready farm was quiet, each occupant of Champ’s cruiser staring out of the windows, desperately trying to keep up with the scenery for a flash of blonde hair. Champ drove with his blues and twos on, one sweaty hand clamped tightly to his wife’s leg. When they arrived, Wynonna barrelled out, running into the house to find Gus.

“Ok, so here’s the plan. We split up to cover more ground.” Champ said in an stern voice that didn’t really suit his boyish charm. “I’ll take the pasture to the South. Nicole, you take the woods to the north, and Waverly, you take the grounds. If you find something, holler real loud and we’ll all come runnin’.”

“Do you have any chalk?” Nicole asked.

“Why the hell would I have _chalk_?” Champ asked, looking at her like she’d lost her mind.

“We should mark where we’ve been.” Nicole answered, voice level. “Take the area in even lines, Mark a tree or a fence post to remind you what ground you’ve already been covered.”

“There’s some in the nursery.” Waverly said, already running towards the house. “I’ll be right back!” She shouted, over her shoulder.

There was an uncomfortable tension that settled as soon as she was gone. Nicole tried to look anywhere but at the officer staring at her with barely concealed resentment. Her eyes followed the fence line, hoping against hope to see a familiar form, wobbling through the long grass on the other side.

“I know what you’re trying to do, y’know.”

Turning back to Champ, Nicole raised her brows. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He said bitterly. “Swanning in, playing the knight in shining armour. You’re trying to steal my girl.”

Nicole sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Not the time Champ.”

“You won’t get her.” He hissed. “She’s mine.”

“Waverly doesn’t belong to anyone, and I’m not having this conversation with you, least of all now.” Nicole hissed, before reigning in her annoyance. “Look, lets just focus on finding Alice, ok?”

“Oh, you’d lo-“

“Here!” Waverly cried triumphantly, leaping down the final few steps and running at full pelt across the dusty driveway. Clutched in her raised hand were several sticks of coloured chalk.

“Great!” Nicole said with a brittle smile, stepping away from the man currently scowling at her back. “Let’s do this.”

—————————-——————————

She was absolutely regretting the unfathomable enthusiasm. Nicole had quickly realised that she had no grasp of the area or the geography, and that the woods all looked the same. She’d soon got turned around and lost her markings, and then she’d lost the tree line, and now rather than looking for the baby who needed them, she was getting worried that they’d have to send a search party for her instead.

“Oh, Nicole can take the woods to the north.” Nicole said, spitefully lampoonig Champ’s voice. “Maybe she’ll get eaten by a bear or die of exposure, and I can just go back to being a shitty husband.”

She kept moving, hoping she was going in the right direction. The trees seemed to be getting closer together, the path wavering in and out of sight. She could also see...fog? From the bright blue skies over Gus’s farm, to wherever the hell she was, the weather had gone south. She could taste snow in the air, and with every step the grey wisps seemed to get thicker, until she found herself surrounded by a wall of shifting, swirling mist. 

“Don’t panic don’t panic.” She whispered to herself. The ground under feet felt soft, but when she looked down all she could see was the packed earth of the sandy path she’d been following.

A cry broke the air, echoing through the trees. “Hello?” She shouted back.

“Alice!” She heard, and this time she recognised Waverly’s voice. Newly determined, Nicole took a deep breath, and set off blindly in the direction of the noise, the fog closing in behind her.

————————————-——————-

Waverly saw the flash of colour from where she stood by the greenhouse, the image made wavy through the glass. It was just a splurge against the greens and browns of the forest, behind the fence line, but it was unmistakably orange and it set her heart racing.

Just a couple of nights earlier, Waverly had tried to put Alice into a cute turquoise Frozen onesie that she’d found at the grocery store, and the child had screamed like a banshee until her exasperated aunt had changed her back into an orange one. It was a strange quirk to have, her attachment to this one very specific colour, but Waverly supposed that as an Earp, a few harmless quirks were a requirement. Now, seeing the familiar umber hues standing out against the woodland, she was desperately grateful.

“Alice!” Waverly called, running around the greenhouse. Away through the trees, a flash of colour disappeared, reappearing a a few feet away. “Monkey! Baby! Wait for auntie Waverly!” 

Sprinting across the lawn, Waverly scrambled over the fence, her eyes scanning the forest. A childish giggle sounded from her left, and without a second’s hesitation she took off after it.

The forest was cold, colder than the bright sunshine above and the odd Indian summer they were experiencing should have allowed, but Waverly gave it no mind as she ploughed through the wet bracken and around the tall, thick trunks of the pines. 

She could just about see the child, dipping in and out of sight twenty feet in front of her. She was moving fast, much faster than her pudgy little legs should have allowed, and, Waverly realised, much taller too, her blonde curls bobbing along the top of the waist high weeds that grew between the trees.

“Alice!” She hollered again, trying to keep up. Bursting into a clearing, Waverly blinked, rubbing her eyes to make sense of what she was seeing.

In the middle of the clearing stood an oak tree, it’s wide, ancient limbs stretching out and preventing anything from growing underneath it. Tangled around the boughs were great pendulous growths of mistletoe, hung with beautiful white berries, the colour of which matched the porcelain of the snow drifted around the edge of the clear circle, knee deep. Waverly shivered, her breath suddenly frosting in front of her face. This couldn’t be real.

“Wave’y!”

Jumping, Waverly stared at the gnarled roots under the oak and saw her niece, blissfully in one safe piece, waving at her with chubby, sticky hands.

“Oh my angel!” Waverly gasped, starting forwards. “Are you ok? We were so scared!”

“She’s _fine_.” A third voice trilled, and as though by magic, Waverly watched as a woman with black hair and dark skin faded into view, sitting on the stool created by the tree roots and holding Alice in her lap. She was beautiful, Waverly saw with a gulp, dressed in a fashionable black dress that hugged her figure seductively and a thick, fur-lined coat that was part wrapped around the child happily snuggled in her arms.

“What have you done to her?” Waverly snarled, hovering a few feet away from the pair and trying to resist the urge to snatch the baby out of the stranger’s arms.

The woman looked offended. “Girl, you should be down on your knees thanking me. I’ve been keeping this little cherub alive.”

“I don’t-“

“Waverly?” Nicole stepped into the clearing, the same disbelief written plain across her face. When her eyes landed on Alice, they narrowed.

“Oh good, Sheriff Clueless is here too.” The woman rolled her eyes. Ignoring her, Nicole stepped slowly to Waverly’s side.

“M’am, please give me the child.” The redhead asked calmly, tentatively holding out her arms, concerned what might happen if she alarmed the attractive stranger.

“You people.” The woman said with a sigh, passing the toddler into Nicole’s waiting hands without complaint. “You’re going to kill her, you know that?”

“What do you mean?” Waverly asked, pulling Alice from Nicole’s arms and squeezing her tightly. “Who even are you? What do you want?”

“Oh Waverly Earp, you do know me even if you can’t recall at this time.” The woman said with a sigh, rising to her feet and dusting snow from her dress. “I am Mary Katherine Horony-Cummings, but you can call me Kate. I’m keeping that sweet thing safe for Doc Holliday.”

“Doc...Holliday?” Nicole asked with a frown. “As in...”

“The one and same, Nicole Haught.” Kate said, her voice unimpressed. Nicole’s mouth fell open, realising that this stranger knew her too. “I have been feeding her, giving her water, keeping her warm in her little crib. Without me, Alice and half the children in this town would be rotting already.”

“Feeding...” Waverly glanced down, seeing scattered around the ground several empty packets of nutrition bars and fruit snacks, and a sippy cup, purple juice dripping from the end and staining the frozen dirt.

“Mmm-hmm.” Kate smiled unkindly. “Let me guess,” she said, gliding forwards with her hands clasped in front of her and a smirk on her lips, “things have seemed off lately? Memories a tad hazy? I’ll bet your bellies have been growling with hunger and your throats parched with thirst, no matter what you eat and drink.”

The two women gulped, nodding at the veracity of the statement. 

“Well, here in this special place, I can tell you everything you need to know.” Kate said with a wolffish grin, two pronounced and very white canines poking into her scarlet painted lips. “And maybe together we can break this-“

The shots that rang out had both Waverly and Nicole hitting the dirt, Waverly curling her body protectively around her niece and Nicole in turn lying over Waverly, trying to shield her from whatever was coming.

“Did I get her? Did I get her?” Champ’s voice echoed as he ran into the clearing. 

Looking up, Waverly and Nicole both saw that Kate had vanished, and along with her the crisp covering of snow and the detritus of litter. The sun shone once again, birds in the trees singing fit to bust, and the only reminder that something was wrong was Alice’s angry screaming.

“We have to get back to Wynonna, right now.” Nicole said, hauling Waverly to her feet. As she strode by Champ, she scowled. “You don’t _ever_ fire that gun without verifying the situation first, do you hear me Officer? You could have killed that woman, or anyone of us, and even if you didn’t, you scared away our only lead into whatever the fuck is going on here. Nedley will hear about this, you mark my words.”

Champ glared, pursing his lips tightly and reluctantly holstering his weapon. Without a word Waverly hurried after her friend, glancing back over her shoulder at the mighty oak tree. In their haste, no one saw the droplets of blood spattered across the bark, the only evidence that Kate Horony-Cummings had been there at all.


	8. Chapter 8

Shorty’s was quiet at 2 o’clock in the afternoon, and the group had no problem finding a round booth table tucked in the back where they wouldn’t be disturbed. Shorty brought them a bottle of bourbon, a round of beers and seven glasses, plus a small plastic bottle of orange juice for Alice, who seemed unperturbed by her adventure but did try to bite the bar owner’s finger when he tapped her nose fondly.

“You’ve got til the home time rush, then she’s got to be out.” Shorty warned sternly, rubbing the teeth marks from his hand.

Wynonna poured the drinks, her arm protectively holding the baby in her lap. She’d been as near to crying in public as she’d ever been when she’d seen Waverly running across the field with Alice in her arms, relief making her knees give way beneath her when the familiar little body was finally in her grasp. There was no way she was letting the child out of her sight again.

“Tell me again what this Kate said.” She asked, knocking back a shot of whiskey.

Waverly began drawing on the table with her fingertip, using a drop of spilled beer as paint. “She said she’d been keeping Alice and the other town children alive. Feeding them and keeping them hydrated. She said without her, they’d be...” The brunette swallowed, raising her eyes caustiously to meet her sister’s sullen gaze. “She said they’d be dead.”

“She threatened them?” Wynonna growled, pulling Alice closer to her chest. 

“No, it was more like the opposite.” Waverly bit her lip, a thoughtful expression on her brow. “It was as if she was trying to warn us.”

“I agree.” Nicole piped up, earning surprised looks from the rest of the table. “Look, I know you don’t really know me but I trust my gut, and whoever this woman was I don’t think she wanted to hurt us. I think she wanted to help us. She said something about breaking...” the redhead pulled a face, “Well, breaking something. A curse maybe?”

“So she was like, what, some kind of magical medium or something?” Wynonna scoffed. “Some sort of time traveller here to warn us to fix our ways?”

“Are you sure she wasn’t...a... _doctor_?” Jeremy Chetri, the Police Department’s resident science guy said with a grin, holding up his hand to Sheriff Nedley for a high five. The police chief took a pointed sip of his beer and ignored the gesture. “Amirite? Come on, amirite?” He turned to Champ, who scowled, and awkwardly dropped his hand.

“Actually, I think she was a vampire.” Nicole shrugged nonchalantly.

“A vampire.” Wynonna repeated.

“Yeah, she had these teeth,” the woman continued, waving her hands around her face, “and she was like _insanely_ beautiful.” Waverly harrumphed, folding her arms across her chest. “In a sinister, child stealing kind of way.” Nicole clarified quickly, side-eying the young brunette.

Wynonna looked between both women, and decided not to ask. “Ok, so some hot chick comes to Purgatory to break a curse that none of us even know about? I mean, I think we’d notice if this place was cursed. I don’t get it.”

“Except, we have all noticed it.” Waverly said quietly, swallowing as the whole table turned to look at her. “Right? I mean, we’ve all felt that something was off lately. Something missing.” Her eyes lingered on Nicole for a beat, before she looked down at her hands. “What if whatever this curse is has been the cause of all the confusion.”

“The unexplained deaths.” Nedley nodded, eyes fixed firmly on his beer bottle. 

“The mysterious strangers.” Gus agreed.

“The jumbled memories.” Nicole sighed, eying Champ’s police uniform, feeling strangely drawn to the badge displayed proudly on his chest.

“No.” The redhead jumped, startled out of her musings as the young man leapt to his feet, both palms slamming into the table. 

“What?” Wynonna asked, screwing her face up.

“This is nonsense.” Champ hissed. “It’s just some out of towners coming here, trying to stir shit up.” He glared pointedly at Nicole before continuing. “You want to blame fairy tales for your fucked up lives, you carry on, but me, my life’s damn near perfect. I’ve got a hot wife, a great job, the respect of the whole damn town. You can go chasing ghosts or whatever, but count us out. Waverly, come on.”

The table watched dumbfounded as he stomped away towards the stairs leading to the pokey flat above the bar. Waverly bit her lip, wanting to stay but feeling like she should follow. When he reached the midway step, Champ turned, slapping the bannister twice and calling her name.

 _Like you’d call a dog,_ Nicole thought bitterly.

Waverly clearly thought the same, her face flashing with annoyance which vanished almost as soon as it arrived, tempered with a conscious effort to avoid a fuss. With a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she rose and walked to her husband’s side, following him morosely up to their apartment.

“What a dick.” Wynonna shook her head. “Why is she even with a wank waffle like that when she could have literally her pick of the town?” In her arms, Alice had begun to fuss.

“He was a good kid.” Gus said noncommittally. “Don’t think much of the man he’s turned into, o’course. Waverly deserves to be with someone who treats her like the intelligent, sweet girl she is.”

“She deserves the world.” Nicole said firmly, eyes still fixed on the now empty stairs. Behind her back, Gus and Wynonna shared a smirk.

“Ma-ma-ma-maaaaaaaaaaa!” Alice shrieked, tearing up.

“We should get the baby home.” Gus said with a sigh, hauling herself to her feet and holding her hands out. Wynonna frowned, reluctant to hand the child over after having so nearly lost her. Gus rolled her eyes, and motioned instead for the keys to her ancient pick up. “Fine. I’ll drive.”

“I’m going to head off home too.” Nedley said, getting up and nodding solemnly at Nicole and Jeremy. “Days like this, you just want to be close to your kids.”

“How old is his kid?” Nicole whispered as the Sheriff wandered away, tipping his hat to some of the bar’s patrons as they trickled in.

Jeremy chuckled. “Waverly’s age.”

Nicole have a half shrug. “Guess it’s true what they say, they’re always your babies.”

“Not mine.” Jeremy said. Nicole paused, but he didn’t sound cut up about it, and she left it at that. A clean, well dressed young man walked in, looking around nervously at the grubby saloon. “Oo, that’s mah beau.” Jeremy grinned, squeezing out of the booth and jogging over to the man, who greeted him with a warm kiss. Nicole smiled, wondering idly if she’d ever have that kind of comfort with someone again.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” A blonde woman with a predatory smirk slid into the seat next to Nicole, placing a manicured hand on her exposed forearm. Nicole blinked at her stupidly. “You must be new in town. I’m Sandy; what’s your name, handsome?”

“Oh, um-“

“Nicole!” The redhead snapped her head around at the sound of her name, to see Waverly Hardy standing near the bar. Her arms were folded, and her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the sight in front of her, and Nicole was surprised to watch her run her gaze over the blonde with unconcealed distaste.

“Hi Waverly.” Nicole smiled, worried by the expression on the younger woman’s face. It seemed almost like jealousy, but Nicole knew that was probably wishful thinking.

“Nicole.” The woman still stroking her arm smiled, shuffling a little closer so that she was engulfed in the girl’s flowery perfume. “You’re the person Gus McCready hired to do up that old farm off’ve the highway.”

“That I am.” Nicole said, trying to ease herself away without being rude.

“You must be good with your hands.” The blonde said with a toothy grin, running soft fingers over Nicole’s palm. Nicole blushed as Sandy leaned in, wondering how best to politely excuse herself. Up close she could see that the girl was young, probably in her late teens, although the blossom of her youth was hidden beneath a thick layer of makeup that made her seem, at first glance, older; the realisation made Nicole even more uncomfortable as the young woman continued, “You want to go somewhere and prove me right?”

“So it’s not enough that you had my husband, now you’re after my friends too?” Waverly appeared as if from nowhere, towering over the two seated women with her diminutive frame bolstered by bristling rage.

Sandy leaned back in her seat. “I can flirt with who I like. You don’t own Nicole any more than you own Champ.” She said quietly, sounding about as confident as she looked - which wasn’t very.

“Excuse me?” Waverly snorted. “Oh, girl, I’m going to tear you the new one I shoulda given you the last time.”

“Whoa!” Nicole squeaked, jumping between the two women before the situation could escalate further. “Waverly enough! She’s leaving.” Turning her head to look at the girl stunned into silence, Nicole made a face. “Aren’t you leaving Sandy?”

Muttering to herself, Sandy got up, grabbing her handbag, and awkwardly squeezed passed the redhead. She got a metre away before spinning on her heels and calling, “I left my number on that napkin, if you want some fun.” Waverly growled, and Sandy scuttled away.

“That was something huh.” Nicole chuckled, after a tense moment of silence. Waverly frowned deeper.

“Do you like her?” She demanded.

“I don’t even know her, Waverly.” Nicole sighed, feeling defensive but unsure why. “Plus she’s a little on the young side for my tastes.”

“Oh, that’s the only thing stopping you is it?” The brunette grumped out.

“So what if it is?” Nicole snapped, patience fraying at the younger woman’s attitude. “You were off with your _husband_ , what do you care?”

“You’re right,” Waverly retorted, “I was. I only came to get a bottle of wine for our romantic night in.”

“Good for you.” Nicole said angrily, grabbing her habitual battered Stetson from the table and striding out into the cold, dark street, leaving Waverly and Sandy’s number behind.

Waverly watched her go sadly, feeling nothing but regret.

——————————————————-———

“Babe, I got rosé is that ok?” Waverly said wearily as she ascended the stairs and opened her front door.

The first thing she saw was candles. It wasn’t like the childish fantasies she’d had in her adolescence of magical romantic night’s, every surface covered in flickering tea lights, but there were 3 or 4 scattered around and they smelt nice. The next thing she registered was music; the song that was playing she recognised as being from her R&B guilty pleasures playlist, and she cringed to hear Craig David’s voice explaining that they were making love on a Wednesday through the speakers.

All that paled in comparison to the third thing she recognised as it happened in slow motion - a half naked Champ wrapping his thick arms possessively around her waist, pulling her into his hips, pressing his enthusiastic lips to her mouth as he swayed them together, grinding himself into her.

“Ew Champ, stop.” Waverly shrieked, pushing him away by his bare chest. He stumbled back, perplexed.

“But babe, I lit candles. You love candles.” He said, looking like a confused puppy. “It feels like it’s been years since we’ve had sex, and we’ve been so disconnected the last couple of weeks. I thought you’d like this.” 

Waverly pursed her lips. He’d stripped down to his boxers, a gold chain hanging proudly against his waxed chest, and she could see why the other women in town fell all over him. She knew objectively that he was as attractive as a man could be, with his boyish good looks and carefully stylised physique. He was her husband. _You should be grateful_ , the cruel internal voice of her insecurities whispered once again.

“I know, and the candles are lovely, I just...I’m not in the mood.” Waverly said, feeling a little guilty but equally horrified at the thought of going to bed with him. Touching him. The kisses had been bad enough.

“Well I can change that.” Champ grinned oblivious to his wife’s mental turmoil, stepping forwards with grabby hands outstretched. Waverly ducked, pivoting around him and deliberately put some distance between the two of them. Champ looked hurt. “What the hell, Waverly?”

“I just don’t want to, ok?” She snapped, hands on hips. The truth was, she herself didn’t really understand the sudden revulsion to her husband’s physical affections. In her memories, their relationship was passionate, loving; in real life, though, it felt cold and distant. She couldn’t marry the two images together.

“You know,” Champ said, sounding annoyed, “I get it. You’re down there with your sister and your friends, trying to solve whatever mystery is going on for why your life is so shit, for why you’re trapped with me instead of running off to be with the first redhead who smiles your way.”

“Champ, that’s not-“

“Don’t Tell me it’s not true!” He shouted, stamping his foot. “You wince whenever I touch you, you roll your eyes whenever I speak, you spend as much time away from me as you can! But with _her_ ,” he hissed, “don’t think I haven’t seen the way you look at her. You think things have seemed off for you? Well surprise, because I’ve got my dream life and it’s turning into a fucking nightmare!”

Waverly felt tears sting her eyes. “I’m sorry Champ, I don’t know what to say.”

He looked at her with sorrow painted all across his face, shoulders slumping downwards. “You don’t have to say anything, Waverly. You may hate me, but you’re not the only one trapped in this marriage.”

“Champ, I don’t hate-“

“Waverly?” A knock came to the door, Nicole’s voice filtering through the wood. “Look, I came to say I’m sorry. Things have been a little crazy and I overreacted.”

Champ scoffed, moving to the bed to put on his jeans. “Of course, she’s here.” 

“Where are you going?” Waverly asked with sadness as he pulled on his flannel shirt and strode to the exit. 

Yanking the door open, the Officer glared at the newcomer, standing shocked and still with one hand raised. “She’s all yours, again.” He growled, marching down the stairs with his shirt tails flapping, not even glancing back at his wife as he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love jealous Waverly guys, I could read jealous Waverly stories until my eyeballs dried up and fell out, so I’m stoked I got to include her a little bit here.


	9. Chapter 9

“Waverly?” Nicole asked tentatively, hovering in the doorway.

The youngest Earp looked at her friend with wet eyes, and indicated she should enter before wordlessly walking to sit on the bed, hands in her lap. 

After a pause, Nicole stepped inside and shut the door, blocking out the sound of music and laughter from the saloon. “Waverly, what happened?”

Waverly looked up at the ceiling, trying not to cry. “I think my marriage is over.” She said.

“Oh Waverly, I’m sorry.” Nicole sighed, hovering near the bed. She had a surge of guilt for the happiness she felt at hearing Waverly’s husband had left, when her friend was clearly distraught about it; she also wanted nothing more than to pull the younger woman into her arms, but with what she’d heard Champ say as he stormed out and their earlier argument, she wasn’t sure if that would be well received.

“Hah!” Waverly laughed wanly, shaking her head. “Well, that makes one of us.”

“How do you mean?”

Waverly looked down at her hands again, picking at a cuticle. “I don’t think I’m upset because Champ’s gone. I think I’m upset because I’m _not_.”

“Oh.” Nicole said, her voice laden with uncertainty.

“Does that make me a terrible person?” Waverly asked suddenly, big eyes boring into Nicole’s skull in search of answers. “I feel like I should have all these emotions, but all I feel is relief. I mean, terrible that he’s hurting, of course, but mainly just relief that he’s gone and this whole charade is over.”

“Of course you’re not a terrible person, Wave! You can’t help how you feel, and he wasn’t...the best husband.”

“I wasn’t the best wife either.” Waverly whispered, picturing the sad look in her husband’s pretty face as she pushed away his advances, and the gentle caress of Nicole’s lips that had made butterflies awaken in her stomach in a way Champ’s never had. “Is this how it’s supposed to feel?” She wondered, looking at the older woman for reassurance. 

Nicole licked her lips, her hands tangling together nervously as she tried to remember what she had felt when Shae left. The now familiar haze descended though, blurring her memories, and she settled for a placid, “Maybe it hasn’t sunk in yet?”

“Maybe it’s because all of this feels wrong.” The brunette continued, downcast. “Everything about him and our marriage just felt forced. Fake. Like it wasn’t supposed to be happening to either of us. Does that make sense?”

Nicole smiled kindly. “It does.”

Waverly heaved a watery sigh, and patted the patch of quilt next to her. “Will you sit with me for a while? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course.” The redhead sat down, hands planted on her knees. “Do you...do you want a hug?”

Waverly sniffed, grinning weakly. “I would _love_ a hug.”

Nicole’s arms were an instant comfort; Waverly settled into the embrace, breathing in her scent, letting it run over her and coat her lungs, overriding the anxiety that had built up in her chest, and dissipating the stress wracking her muscles taught. _This is where you’re supposed to be_ , she thought, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of Nicole’s broad shoulder’s under her fingers.

Breathing in deeply, Nicole couldn’t help the feeling of solace she found, having the young Earp in her embrace. Her organs twisted with the ingrained need to keep this person safe, to protect, to serve; she knew that the world outside continued to turn on its confusing, messy axis, but suddenly all that mattered was the small circle made by her arms, and the woman nestled therein. _This is where I’m supposed to be,_ , she thought.

Breaking apart, Nicole brushed a lock of hair behind Waverly’s ear, reluctant to let the physical touch she had so enjoyed end completely. “Look, why don’t you let me drive you to the homestead tonight? We can take that wine, curl up together, and you can tell me a bit more about your research?”

Waverly beamed, tears momentarily forgotten. “I’d like that.”

————————————————————

The next day dawned bright, made more so for Waverly as she awoke cuddled close to Nicole Haught’s chest; the builder was snoring lightly, her face pointing away from her bedmate, and one arm was tucked underneath Waverly’s neck, holding her close; the other trailed the length of her own body, the tips of her fingers dipping beneath waistband of her jersey shorts. Trying not to feel like a creep, the Earp turned, breathing in Nicole’s morning stink, and pressing her ear to her ribs to better hear the steady sleepy beat of the heart underneath.

It was mesmerising, the feeling of completeness she got when she was with this woman. Mesmerising, and terrifying.

“Hey, you.” Glancing up, Waverly saw Nicole blinking sleepily down at her. Her voice was croaky, and her hair mussed, and Waverly thought her heart might break with the sight of it.

“Morning.” She whispered.

“How did you sleep?” 

“Good.” Waverly allowed herself to stretch, cat like, against Nicole’s prone body. “You?”

“Yeah, very well. I think you’re my lucky charm in that respect.” She grinned. “I’m starving now though.”

“I’ll have to make you breakfast.” Waverly smiled. “I think Gus must have left a food parcel on the porch for you last night. I brought it in when we arrived, put it in the kitchen.”

“Oh?” Nicole frowned. “She didn’t mention it.”

“It’s either her or your secret admirer.” Waverly joked; her smile faltered as she remembered the young girl from the night before with her wandering hands and come-hither desperation.

Nicole saw the thoughts written plain on Waverly’s face, and moved her head so that she could look into her eyes. “There’s not a secret admirer in the world who could catch my attention right now.”

“No?” 

“No.” Nicole confirmed solemnly. Clearing her throat, she continued. “How about I make us breakfast, and then I was thinking maybe I could drive you into town. I expect Jeremy is going to be doing some more digging into our mystery woman, and I thought you could make sure he’s on the right track.”

“Me?” Waverly wrinkled her nose.

“Well, Yeah...I mean, you’ve got years worth of extensive research into the history and legends of this area, right?” Nicole had sat up in bed, and was looking at Waverly expectantly.

“You think I could help?” The barmaid asked in a small voice.

“Yes, of course. You’re like a walking encyclopaedia for the Ghost River County, plus which I’ve seen what’s in those boxes - your investigative skills make Sherlock Holmes look like a shirker.” Nicole said without a hint of deception, looking at Waverly like that level of belief was the most natural thing in the world; like she, Waverly, meant something.

Waverly swallowed a sudden lump forming in her throat. “Thank you. For trusting me to help. No one has ever really done that.”

Nicole frowned slightly, and leant to place a tender kiss to Waverly’s forehead. “Get used to it, love. You’re incredible, and soon everyone’s going to know it.”

—————-——————————————-

Jeremy had, to Waverly’s surprise, been overjoyed to have a companion in the makeshift lab he’d set up the back of the Sheriff’s Office.

“Aw yeah, a Science Buddy!” He’d insisted on greeting the woman, gesturing her over to blackboard which was pinned with images and sticky notes, and covered in white chalk. In the middle of the board hung a bough of freshly cut mistletoe, and a stick of wood. “Ok, so this is all I’ve got so far.”

“Wow.” Waverly said, impressed. “What’s the foliage for?”

Jeremy grinned. “So this morning I went back to the glade where you saw this Kate person, super early.”

“Alone? Was that safe?” The brunette asked, surprised.

“Well...no. But I had like a multipack of garlic stuffed in my pocket and some holy water I may or may not have lifted from the Catholic Church down on 7th.” Jeremy shrugged nonchalantly. “It was fine, no biggie.”

“Did you find anything?” Waverly asked, trying to tamper her hope.

“Not a thing.” Jeremy shrugged. “Not even the wrappers from the candy bars you said she’d given Alice. But I did have an epiphany. What made that area special? Why would you be able to interact with this woman there, when all we’ve seen anywhere else is glimpses?”

Waverly bit her thumb, staring at the young man. “The tree.” she mused, walking closer to the blackboard. “White oaks don’t grow well in this territory; the climate is too extreme. The tree makes that one place unusual.”

“Boom.” Jeremy said, grinning.

“So what does that mean?” Waverly asked, standing in front of the small stick, it’s bark mottled with lichen.

“I, uh...haven’t got that far yet.” Jeremy admitted.

“Did you see anything when you touched it?” 

His smile went brittle. “I...didn't.”

Waverly frowned. “Then how did you get it here?” 

Jeremy pulled his sleeve over his hand and waggled it in her direction. “Ta-da!” Seeing her blank expression, he sighed. “Look, I didn’t know what was going to happen when I picked it up, ok? I just grabbed it, ragged some of the mistletoe off the bush, and left it at that.”

“Huh. Smart.” Waverly said. “But inconclusive.” 

“No!” Jeremy screeched, but Waverly already had the branch in her bare hand, holding it aloft triumphantly. Jeremy winced, covering his eyes with both hands.

Nothing happened.

“That was an anti-climax.” The scientist said, lowering his hands.

“Shoot, I really thought that would work.” Waverly huffed, pinning the oak back to the board. “Ok, let’s think. Why else would that place be special?”

“Ancient aboriginal burial ground.” Jeremy said happily.

“There’s no Métis burial ground on this side of Purgatory.” Waverly said absently, staring at the blackboard. “I don’t think this location would be suitable for the Cree either, from what I understand of tradition.”

“Witch burning.” The scientist said hopefully. 

“Too far East.” Waverly muttered, reaching out a hand to ghost lightly over the white berries of the mistletoe.

“Portal to hell.” 

“Jeremy, be serious for a second will you?” Waverly snapped. Rubbing her temples, she continued, “Look, what if we’re missing something right in front of us?”

“Ok,” the young man huffed, “but what?”

“So i’m spit balling here, ok?” Waverly said, beginning to pace. “But in ancient Celtic mythology, the mistletoe and the oak were a sacred connection, the oak being deciduous and the mistletoe an evergreen. When the oak lost its leaves, appearing dead, the mistletoe gave it the impression of life.”

“It’s a symbol of new life.” Jeremy shrugged. “So what?”

“Champ said something last night, something about how he’d gotten his dream life, and it got me thinking. Even Champ knows things seem unreal round here, like as though our lives were totally different in the past. What if whatever has happened has changed our lives completely? Given us new ones?”

Jeremy’s eyes widened. “And the mistletoe symbolises our new lives, like the oak symbolises our old ones. You think the mistletoe is the key?”

“I don’t know.” Waverly frowned. “It didn’t do anything when I touched it.”

Jeremy walked closer to the sprig and pursed his lips. Taking a crisp white berry in his fingers, he rolled it, squashing it, letting the pulp smear over his skin. “Ah!” He shrieked, shaking the mulch off with a terrified expression.

“What?” Waverly cried, stepping closer. “What happened?”

“I saw...” Jeremy looked around nervously. “I saw _something_.”

“Like a ghost?”

“No like...” Jeremy looked shaken. “Like this place but...cold. Dirty. Sort of...abandoned. And I remembered things.”

“What things?” Waverly asked eagerly.

Jeremy squinted. “I...I can’t...recall...” he closed his eyes. “This isn’t real.”

“What isn’t real?”

When Jeremy opened his eyes, they were damp. “All of it. You were right. None of this is real.”

————————-—————————————

“So explain to me again why we have a boot full of mistletoe?” Nicole asked as they drove up the rutted dirt path to the Earp homestead. She flicked away a bug that landed on her arm, one of no doubt hundreds clinging to the fresh cut foliage shoved in the back of her car, burrowing into the upholstery.

“When Jeremy squished the mistletoe berry, he remembered things, things about his old life. His real life. I don’t know.” Waverly waved a hand dismissively. “All I know is the plant is the key to unravelling all this mystery.”

“Ok.” Nicole said, nodding. “That’s good.”

“It is!” Waverly bounced excitedly in her chair. “We’ve nearly solved it!”

“ _You’ve_ nearly solved it.” Nicole said with a twinkle. “Well, with Jeremy’s help. So what do we have to do with this lot?” She gestured a thumb over her shoulder.

“We...didn’t get that far.” Waverly said, smile dimming. “Jeremy smushed It and that’s when everything became clear, for a few seconds.”

“So we’re meant to...mash this lot up? Eat it? What?” Nicole frowned, changing gears.

“Funny story,” Waverly said, “I asked the same thing.”

“And what did Jeremy say?”

“He said ‘That depends on how you feel about shitting yourself to death’. Turns out mistletoe is actually really toxic.”

“Oh.” Nicole said, inhaling.

“Yeah.” Waverly looked out the window, feeling foolish. “He’s doing some tests to find out how we might be able to use this to our advantage, but I thought in the mean time we could stockpile some, be ready for when we know what to do.”

A warm hand on her knee brought her back from her embarrassment. “That’s smart.” Nicole smiled, giving a squeeze. “You’re amazing.”

Waverly beamed. 

Pulling up next to the barn, both women made quick work of hauling out the boughs of mistletoe, stringing them up from the rafters, filling the air with the earthy smell of fresh leaves and making it look like Christmas come early.

“I wonder what my life was like.” Nicole mused as she jumped down from an overturned crate, dusting off her hands. “Maybe I’m a millionaire.”

“I bet it was great.” Waverly said, a fond smile on her lips. “You probably had an amazing job and like a huge house, and...” she hesitated. “Maybe you and Shae didn’t split up.”

Nicole frowned for a second, looking at Waverly’s sad eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe I’d found someone else.” She said softly, taking the younger woman’s hands in hers. “Waverly, I-“

A popping noise interrupted her. Above them, the reams of greenery began to shake ominously; Nicole pushed Waverly behind her back, cowering slightly at the strange sight, as a great swathe of white berries suddenly erupted in a shower of juice and pulp, which rained down and made the air misty. Blinking, both women stared at the figure now emerging from the haze of plant matter. He was handsome, in a rugged, roguish sort of way, and dressed like a gunslinger from an old Western movie. In one hand, he held a spade, the rusty metal covered now in mistletoe goop. Nicole recognised him instantly as the man she had chased out of the homestead, but she couldn’t help the feeling that there was something else; some other way she knew him. It was like having a word on the very tip of her tongue, a niggling shape she remembered but which she couldn’t quite formulate into being. 

“Ladies.” He said, tipping his hat. “I apologise for the dramatics. You may not remember me at this current time, but I assure you, in another we were well acquainted.”

“Who are you?” Nicole demanded, voice firm and clear.

The man smirked. “My name, Ms Haught, is John Henry Holliday. You may call me Doc.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cards on the table, I’ve pulled most of the mythology here out of my metaphorical ass, so if it reads as bollocks I apologise. Just like...pretend.


	10. Chapter 10

“Doc Holliday?” Waverly squealed excitedly, jumping out from behind Nicole’s back. “Holy moly, I am a _huge_ fan.” 

“Is that so, Waverly Earp?” The man twinkled. Waverly giggled.

Nicole pursed her lips, staring between the two of them, and then rolled her eyes. “Ok, listen bud - you need to tell us what the hell is going on here, and you need to tell us fast.”

“You are correct, Officer, I do.” Doc said, turning solemn. “Time is short for our little parley. I am able to use the power of this lovely festive santalaceae to reveal myself for a time, but once the demon who has turned your lives upside down realises what I have done it will force its glamour down ten fold.”

“Officer?” Nicole asked with confusion, at the same time as Waverly said, “Glamour?”

“Indeed.” He said, ignoring Nicole’s question. “You may not believe it but your lives were quite different not a fortnight ago; everything you have seen since has been...altered. _Managed_.” He stepped forward, and the air shimmered around him, making him appear briefly translucent. “A demon of unquestionable power has brought a glamour down upon this town, stronger than anything even we vampires could enact.”

“How? Why?” Nicole asked.

“The how is the easy part.” Doc said, eyes glinting in the dim light of the barn. “Someone made a wish.”

“A wish?” Nicole said incredulously. 

“A wish, Officer Haught.” The man agreed without a hint of irony. “As to the why...I do not know. Demons do not readily grant the desires of humans without a large and terrible payment.”

“Who made the wish?” Waverly asked quietly. Nicole looked at her closely; she looked worried and a little sad, and Nicole desperately wanted to ask her to speak her mind, but she knew she couldn’t, not in front of this mysterious stranger. Instead, she slipped her hand into the Earp’s and gave it a comforting squeeze. Waverly glanced at her, a small, grateful smile on her lips.

“I do not know that either.” Doc admitted. “I have endeavoured to find out, but on account of avoiding the detection of the vile beast plaguing Purgatory and trying to coax you people to eat, my wife and I have been somewhat occupied.”

“Your wife?” Waverly said. 

“Kate. I believe you have already been reacquainted.” Doc rubbed his moustache. “She is...was...my wife.”

“Oh. Right.” Waverly looked downcast at his words, and Nicole felt a twinge of annoyance at the cowboy.

“And what do you mean, getting us to eat?” She asked sharply.

“The glamour is a funny thing.” Doc shrugged. “It makes you lose sight of what’s real. You could eat the finest foods in this town today and tomorrow find you’d feasted on nothin’ but dust. You could drink all the wine and beer you could find and still drop dead of thirst. We’ve been collecting genuine nourishment and leaving it around the town, trying to ensure you survive long enough to break this curse. Not entirely successfully, I might add.”

“That’s why people have been dying.” Nicole gasped. “They’re starving to death.”

“Starving, or dying of the cold.” Doc said.

“It’s like 75 degrees out there.” Waverly pointed to the doorway where the late afternoon sun was warming the ground. “It’s the warmest September we’ve ever had!”

“I assure you it is not, Miss Waverly. It is getting late and the first snow has already long since fallen.”

Nicole heaved a breath. “Jesus.”

“Indeed.” Doc said in his soothing southern drawl.

“What can we do?” Waverly asked, sounding fierce and determined; despite the situation, it made Nicole smile to see the fire back in the young woman’s eyes.

“Just what I was hoping you would ask.” Doc grinned. “You can always rely on an Earp. Myself and Kate will keep supplying the sustenance you need. This demon might be strong, but we cannot be glamoured, no matter how hard it may try. We see things _just_ as they are. You...now you have the more difficult task, Waverly. You must find this demon, and stop him. Bring back the mundane. And quick, before all of us are cold and gone.”

“What about me?” Nicole demanded, taking a stride forwards, head held aloft.

“Why, the same thing you’ve been doing for years.” The vampire smiled, and pointed at the small brunette. “Protect her.”

“And what about-“ Waverly began.

The roaring started as a rumbling growl that seemed to come from every direction at once, seeping through the rough boards of the barn and bubbling under the packed earth beneath their feet. Nicole grabbed Waverly, holding her tight with both arms, and was horrified to feel the roaring buzzing in her own teeth and bones, shaking the very quick of her.

“What is happening?” She stuttered, body creaking under the vibrations.

Doc stared at them with a look of panic. “It’s here. Our time is over. You must remember!” He reached out a hand, eyes wide and anxious, screaming at an ear piercing volume to be heard over the ruckus, “REMEMBER!”, and then - he vanished.

The roaring stopped. 

Outside, the birds were still tweeting, the sun still shining. Slowly, Nicole eased her grip on the woman in her arms, clearing her throat. Waverly blinked up at her, and took a step back. Nicole instantly missed the security of having her in an embrace. “That happened, right?”

Waverly frowned. “It did. Doc Holliday just turned up in our barn and told us...” her frown deepened. “Something?”

Nicole licked her lips. The memories were there, but they were already fading. She looked up pensively at the tattered shreds of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. “I think...we should go back to the house.” 

The homestead was quiet and calm. Nicole gestured Waverly to sit on the couch, and disappeared into the kitchen. She’d been working on installing new cabinets, and the door-less frames stood half assembled around the room; to one side, ready to be taken outside and burned, stood the old rotten wood of the fitted cupboards she’d ripped out, and her tool box. Grabbing a stanley knife and one of the old doors, Nicole hurried back to the living room and silently joined Waverly on the couch.

Waverly watched as the older woman scratched letters into the wood, revealing soft yellow beneath the mouldy grey-green. When she’d finished, Nicole held up the plank, and gave a wan smile. “Harder to forget this way, right?”

Waverly read the words, chewing her thumb:

Doc Holliday = vampire  
Demon - wish - glamour  
Eat - drink - cold

She took the stanley knife gently from Nicole, who nodded in agreement as Waverly added a final note:

REMEMBER

Standing, Waverly walked to the big iron stove in the corner and placed the rectangle there. She read the list once more, before turning back to face a confused looking Nicole. “It’s safer here. Magical creatures can’t stand iron.” She said simply. 

Nicole smiled, and joined her by the burner. “You are brilliant, have I told you that?”

“Once or twice.” Waverly grinned. “But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

The redhead stepped closer, their toes now touching. “You,” she whispered, her eyes intense, ”are brilliant.”

Waverly bit her lip, inhaling the calming scent of Nicole’s body, a scent she was beginning to crave. “Nicole.” She murmured.

“Waverly.” Nicole said, her voice equally low. “You know I’m in love with you, don’t you?”

Waverly sighed, reaching to wrap her arms around the taller woman’s neck. She closed her eyes. “Do you think it’s...do you think it’s because of our past life?”

Nicole shook her head, pressing their foreheads together. “I think it’s because you’re you. I don’t care what we did in the past. I’m in love with you here, and now, because you are the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met.” 

Waverly laughed weakly, opening her eyes to see deep brown irises, awash with honesty. “You don’t remember the women you’ve met.”

Nicole shrugged. “I don’t have to. I could meet every woman on this planet and know that you’re all I want.”

Waverly swallowed, her throat feeling dry. “I want you, too. All of you.” _I don’t want to wait anymore_ went unspoken.

When their lips met, it was with a passion hitherto unknown. The first few seconds were clumsy - both too eager, both drinking the other in desperately, as one dying of thirst might drink from a glass of water. Waverly relished the feeling; it was vaguely familiar, she supposed, from their earlier tentative kisses, but also new, exciting. The wet warmth of Nicole’s mouth felt right, and proper, and Waverly cursed herself for not indulging in this the moment they’d met. 

In the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of gold.

Nicole’s brow furrowed as Waverly pulled away, but the lines eased as she watched the brunette wiggle the tight wedding band from her finger, and toss it haphazardly across the room. It landed with a tinkle on the floorboards and rolled away. Waverly smiled impishly and leaned in for another kiss.

“Are you sure about this?” Nicole asked breathily, forcing herself to lean away, trying to control her heartbeat.

“So sure.” Waverly mumbled against her lips. “You make my heart beat like the clappers and my stomach do somersaults, but you also make me feel safe...and cared for...and beautiful...and loved.” She punctuated each point with a kiss to Nicole’s neck and jaw, smiling to hear the woman’s breathing becoming more ragged with each moist press of her lips. “I want you, Nicole Haught. If you’ll have me?”

In response, Nicole took Waverly’s hand, and with a smile far more shy than their heated kisses should have allowed, gently, reverently, led her up the stairs.

Outside in the barn, the remaining mistletoe berries popped one by one, mush landing on the dirty floor as the leaves withered and died.

Miles away, deep in the forest and unseen by any living creature, a figure dragged a jerry can between the dark trees. The gasoline inside sloshed against the metal, too heavy to carry, and the figure loudly cursed their fragile human form. “Fucking weak.” They muttered. “Couldn’t have chosen the strong one, could you?” Arriving at their destination, they looked up at ponderous limbs, pale in the moonlight. It was a struggle to climb in the body, like trying to open a locked door while wearing oven mitts, but eventually they made it onto a sturdy branch, wide enough for them to stand, hauling the canister up behind them. “I didn’t want to have to do this.” They muttered as the petrol sloshed over the slim, bottle green leaves of the mistletoe. “They shouldn’t have been able to figure you out. They never have before.” Throwing the empty can down to the ground with a clatter, the figure slid after it. With one final salute to the ancient oak, they lit a match, and flames bathed the snow a ghoulish orange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one today team, because we’ve got a little bit of a choose-your-own-adventure coming up: the next chapter is going to be nothing but Waverly and Nicole getting it on, with absolutely no plot involved. 
> 
> I wanted to post it as a separate chapter so that if that makes you uncomfortable, you can skip ahead without worrying you’ll miss something. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone that has been commenting and kudos’ing - I’m sorry I haven’t replied to you all yet, but it really does mean a lot.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so as I said in the last chapter, there’s no need to read this from a plot point of view. It adds nothing to the story other than sexy fun times. So if that’s not your thing, or it makes you squeamish, please feel free to wait this one out and skip forward to chapter 12.

The walk from living room to bed was made slow, laboured, by their mural desire to touch - taste - experience. They stopped midway, Waverly pulling Nicole down to her level to meld their lips together, only stopping when lack of air made it a hazard. On the landing, Nicole pressed the brunette into the wall, peppering hot, heavy kisses to the line of her carotid artery, the cut of her jaw, while her hands pressed eagerly into Waverly’s hips. “Nicole...bed...Nicole...” the younger woman gasped as her lover licked her ear lobe, her own hands defying her words as she pulled the redhead into her. Nicole chuckled, deep and earthy, and bent to lift her up. Waverly squeaked, as strong hands closed under her thighs and she was lifted from the ground. Nicole smirked. “God, that’s sexy.” Waverly blurted out, blushing at the truth of her words.

Grinning against her lips, Nicole kicked open the door, carrying her precious cargo across the floorboards as Waverly pressed her mouth to any skin she could find, hand tightening in cropped red hair. At the bare bed, Nicole gently laid the brunette down on the sleeping bag, pulling a pillow over to tuck underneath her head, before crawling to hover over her pliant form, weight supported on arms shaky with desire. They looked at each other closely, eyes searching, before Waverly leaned to place a soft hand on the side of Nicole’s face. “I want this.” She whispered again. “I want _us_.” Nicole sighed, surprised at the relief she felt in her bones, before turning her head to push kisses into Waverly’s palm and down her wrist, marvelling at the softness of the skin she found there. Pulling at the loose hanging collar of Waverly’s white cotton crop-top, Nicole dragged her lips over the skin of Waverly’s shoulder, along her defined collar bone, and finally allowed the other woman to reconnect their lips. 

“You deserve more than this.” Nicole panted between caresses. “You deserve silk sheets and candlelight, not this.”

Waverly sighed into her mouth. “I don’t care about that stuff. I just want this. You. Take this off?” She tugged at Nicole’s flannel shirt, eager to feel the body underneath. Nicole grinned, sitting back on her haunches, and slowly undid each button. Waverly bit her lip to see the muscle of her stomach come into view. “More?” She asked, looking up at her lover through heavy eyelashes.

“Greedy.” Nicole chuckled, but she complied, struggling out of her tight sports-bra and wiggling out of her jeans, leaving nothing but boxers and the self-confidence she wore like armour.

Waverly groaned, yanking the woman back down, bringing their mouths together and allowing her hands to wander over the newly exposed skin. When she reached Nicole’s breasts, she pulled back, looking for approval as she dragged the palm of her hand over the hardening nipple. 

Nicole licked her lips, eyes fluttering closed.

“Good?” Waverly whispered. She felt suddenly nervous, unsure; she felt at once as though this was as familiar as her own heartbeat, and simultaneously the complete unknown. She couldn’t remember ever being with a woman, but her hands and mouth itched with eagerness and she desperately wanted to trust them to know what they were doing.

“So good.” Nicole agreed, opening her eyes which Waverly saw were blown and darkened with arousal. “But I want to undress you. I want everything of you.”

“Then do it.” Waverly said simply, shifting away slightly to give Nicole access.

Nicole looked, to Waverly, like a child who had been given an impossibly grand gift. She looked like all her Christmas’s had come at once, reaching out to undo the bow that tied Waverly’s lacy crop-top together. Her eyes flickered for permission before she gently pulled the strings apart, pushing each side of the top open and revealing the brunette’s bare chest underneath. “Stunning.” She said lowly, her gaze glittering over the newly exposed skin, unsure which magnificent inch to settle on first. “You are so, so stunning.”

The first kiss was to Waverly’s sternum, and it was so soft and ticklish that it made her twitch, a small, wispy laugh escaping both their mouths at the motion. “Sensitive.” Nicole said approvingly, before licking a long stripe from the waist of Waverly’s high-waisted jeans up to the dip between her clavicles. Waverly shuddered, feeling dizzy with lust despite barely having been touched. She tried to surreptitiously turn, to press herself into Nicole’s hip, but the older woman caught her, gently pushing her back down with an admonishing _tut_. “I know baby,” she said, smirking, “but not yet. Let me take these off first.”

It turned out to be more of a struggle than either woman was expecting to rid Waverly of her painted-on jeans, Nicole having to yank them from the ankles while Waverly wiggled and squirmed. By the time they were off, both women were giggling, Nicole tossing the trousers aside and easing herself down onto the hard bed. She pressed a kiss to Waverly’s nose. “You’re lovely when you laugh.”

“Aren’t I always?” Waverly teased, brushing stray red hairs from Nicole’s face.

“Hmmm...” Nicole said pretending to think hard, and Waverly chuckled again. “You, Waverly Earp, are _always_ lovely.” They kissed again, languid and slow. Waverly wondered if this was always how sex felt when two people were in love, and felt a moment of sorrow that so many years after giving her virginity to Champ Hardy, she still didn’t know. 

“Now,” Nicole said with a twinkle, “can I _please_ get back to my very important task?”

“You may.” Waverly agreed imperiously, sighing out her pleasure as her bedmate moved lower, letting her tongue and fingers trace wonderful, delicate, sensual patterns over her skin. At her navy blue knickers, Nicole paused for a second, running the very tips of her fingers over the lacy design, along the frills around the edges, her mouth perilously close to where Waverly wanted her most. Each breath ghosted damply along the polyester, and Waverly was almost certain that she would get what she wanted - was certain that she was about to get what she wanted - when Nicole moved again, running her lips down Waverly’s strong thighs, hands running appreciatively down defined calves. “Nicole...please...” she asked, after Nicole gently nipped at the flesh of Waverly’s inner thigh. 

“You have been very patient, baby - so I suppose we both deserve a reward.” Nicole said with a wink. “Can I take these off?” She tweaked the elastic of Waverly’s underwear, surprised when the woman leaned down herself and all but ripped them off; Waverly lay back, suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed under the weight of Nicole’s hungry eyes.

Nicole moved her hands, treacle slow, tracing the line of Waverly’s hips, thumbs barely caressing the outer lips of Waverly’s vulva with a look of pure devotion. She stroked the smooth, baby-soft skin there like it might tear if she pressed too hard, or perhaps like it was something irreplaceably valuable. When she looked up, Waverly was stunned by the weight of her expression. “Wave...I...you are _so_ beautiful. Can I touch you?”

Any embarrassment or awkwardness vanished, and Waverly felt in that instant more sexy than she ever had, to be so wanted, so sought after, by this unique, kind, gorgeous woman. “Yes.” She murmured, and was gratified to see the beaming smile that this elicited on Nicole’s handsome face.

The first kiss was gentle, falling just at the cleft, Nicole’s chin brushing against her already wet clitoris. The next was lower, and made Waverly jerk her hips, keen to feel more pressure. Nicole smiled into the inviting folds in front of her, and gently dipped her tongue into Waverly’s well, humming at the taste coating her mouth. Bringing her tongue up, she swirled around and through and over, mapping each part of the delicious sex in her mouth, focusing on finding what Waverly liked best. The younger woman was expressive; her face contorting in joy as Nicole swept over a particular place, her hands tangling in Nicole’s hair when she softly sucked the swollen nub into the warm confines of her mouth, her hips shimmying away when she stayed too long on an overly sensitive spot. Nicole felt her lower face becoming covered in oily wetness, and doubled her efforts. She wanted more - wanted all the ethereal creature panting above her could give; wanted, if she were honest, to ruin Waverly for all others as she herself was already ruined. _You’ll never get over this_ , her inner monologue insisted as Waverly went taught under her fingers, twanging like a bow string, and then, de-energised, relaxed. Nicole pressed a final kiss to the prickly thatch of hair on the younger woman’s pubic mound, and wiped her face on her own forearm.

“Was that ok?” She whispered as she lay down next to her lover.

Waverly blinked at the ceiling, consciously listening to her heart slow down. “Was it...ok?” She repeated, turning blearily to look at Nicole. “I...I’ve never come like that.”

Nicole beamed smugly. “That’s good. I like to do a thorough job.”

Waverly chuckled weakly. “You sure do, Nicole Haught.”

They lay in silence for a time, enjoying each other’s body heat in the cool dusk light. Nicole drew soft, indistinct patterns on the youngest Earp’s stomach, smiling when the muscles would jump under her finger.

“Baby?” Waverly asked, sounding tentative.

“Yeah?” Nicole pressed a soothing kiss to Waverly’s shoulder. 

“I want to make you come, too.” 

Nicole raised her head, a small, wolffish smile playing on her lips. “You want to make me come?”

“Yeah.” Waverly turned her body, pressing herself into the taller woman, running her hands over her back, squeezing her ass. Their hips pushed together, and she could feel Nicole’s arousal where it coated her thighs. “Mmm, you feel so good.”

Nicole’s breathing picked up, the electric shocks of arousal sparking in her lower belly as Waverly ground softly against her. She could feel the rub of the woman’s pubic hair, still part-slick from her orgasm, and her own flood of wetness. “Lie back, baby.” Nicole murmured into the other woman’s ear. Waverly shivered.

Looking down at the woman beneath her, Nicole pulled herself up, positioning herself so that her lover’s muscled thigh pressed just right. Holding her weight up on her arms, careful not to lean too heavy on Waverly’s slight frame, she moved her hips. Nicole groaned at the sensation, and she saw Waverly’s eyes go wide in wonder. “Waverly.” Nicole hissed, pressing a desperate kiss to her lover’s mouth. She knew it wouldn’t be long; she could still taste Waverly on her tongue, and it was driving her crazy.

Waverly watched as Nicole moved, entranced by the rhythm of her hips and the dampness coating her willing skin. It was, Waverly thought, the hottest thing she’d ever seen. Letting instinct take over, she moved her hands to grip Nicole’s ass, pulling her in tighter. “Yes, baby, yes - ride me harder.” She pleaded in a breathy voice, enjoying Nicole’s eyes lighting up with fire at her words. The redhead grunted, driving herself harder to her relief, and Waverly, caught up in the overwhelming sensation, raked her nails mercilessly down her back; Nicole growled lustily at the searing sting, and Waverly did it again, savouring the powerful feeling it gave her, and the loud, wanton evidence of her lover’s pleasure.

“Oh.” Nicole cried when she came, hips moving hard and fast, “oh oh oh oh,” she chanted, before she stilled, shouting a curse into the air, and panting laid her forehead to rest against Waverly’s sternum. Waverly smiled, breathless, and ran her hands through sweat-damp hair where it spread across her chest and turned her skin a deep orange.

Gradually, Nicole untensed, and slid off to the side. Waverly shuffled closer. “That,” she smiled into Nicole’s ivory skin, “was fucking _hot_.”

Nicole laughed. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

Waverly frowned. “Why would I think it’s weird?”

“Some women don’t like that I have to come that way.” Nicole said, turning on her side and lacing their fingers together. “I mean, I like other things too, but I can only come...that way.”

Waverly thought for a moment, pressing tiny kisses to Nicole’s fingers. They tasted salty and sort of sweet - her own release, Waverly assumed idly. “Does that mean we can do it again?” She asked after a moment. “Because I really enjoyed that.”

Nicole smiled warmly, pulling Waverly into a tight embrace. “I’d like nothing more than to do that with you over and over again, Waverly Earp, until we’re old and grey.”

Waverly leaned into the kiss, enjoying more of the taste still decorating Nicole’s lips and mouth. “Yes,” she said when they finally broke apart, “but I mean like...can we do it again _now_?”

Nicole’s laughter carried through the cold, dark halls of the house, out into the empty yard, and for a moment, the world seemed a little brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The year is 2048; my grandchild turns to me and asks “What did you do in the great Coronavirus lockdown of 2020, nanny?”
> 
> “Well little Colin, I wrote 2000 words of utter filth to try and keep folk’s spirits up. It was a simpler time...”


	12. Chapter 12

Waverly walked down the stairs with a smile on her face, basking in the early morning light. She felt tired, but with the delicious, relaxed fatigue that came from a night of hectic desire. She had only bothered to pull on her ruined knickers and Nicole’s thick yellow flannel, buttoned just enough to protect her modesty, and even then the buttons were misaligned; she had been distracted by kisses, her lover’s tropical mouth inviting clumsiness.

Stretching as she reached the ground floor, muscles feeling wonderfully sore, her eyes fell on a tablet, propped firmly atop the rusty wood burning stove. “Doc Holliday...vampire...wish...” she muttered as she read the words carved into the wood. Memories began to trickle back, breaking through the fog like a ship through ice. Her eyes widened. “Nicole, honey - get up, we need to find Wynonna. Right now!”

———————————————————-

“Some _fucker_ made a _wish_ and now we’re up to our goddamn _dicks_ in _shit_.” Wynonna growled, slamming her coffee cup onto the desk. Under the table, Alice jumped, letting out an indignant squawk before going back to hitting toy cars together. “Sorry baby girl.” Her mom said distractedly. 

They were congregated in Jeremy’s lab, and the young man was looking increasingly frustrated as he tried to work with a crowd behind him. Waverly watched intently as he moved a slide under a microscope, hands steady.

“Wynonna, please.” Sheriff Nedley sighed. “You know how I feel about cursing.”

“Yeah well fuck that, Nedley.” Wynonna said, to the man’s annoyance. “Alice could have died because of this twat maggot. I’m not going to stand round here arguing over syntax with you, I’m going to go find this genie and shove his magic carpet right up his ass.”

“Technically syntax is the structure of the words in a sentence, I think you mean vocabulary.” Nicole said helpfully. Her smile withered under Wynonna’s glare. “...Which is not the point, and I am 100% behind your ‘magic carpet up the ass’ thing.”

“Ok, baby, not helping.” Waverly said, placing a comforting hand on Nicole’s forearm at the same time as Champ strode into the room. He stopped in the doorway, eyes honing in on his wife’s gesture. Waverly snatched her hand back, but it was clear that this only cemented realisation in Champ’s mind. He scowled. 

“You’re with her now?” He asked, sounding angry. “We literally broke up yesterday!”

“Champ, that’s none of your business. Not anymore.” Waverly said firmly, fighting the guilt boiling in her gut. _It’s not real_ , she reminded herself, hoping it was true.

“It’s disgusting, that’s what it is.” He said, raising his eyebrows and crossing his meaty arms. “ _Disgusting_.”

Wynonna opened her mouth to respond, but it was Gus who stepped forwards.

“You watch your mouth.” The older woman said, jabbing a finger in the air. “You wanna talk disgusting? I’ve had to watch you run around sticking your parts in any woman who gave you a second glance for...” she hesitated. “Well, I don’t know how long actually, but too long, I’ll tell you that. I didn’t say nuthin’ because I respect Waverly and she was attached to you for some damn fool reason. But that’s over with now, and you don’t get to stand there and bad mouth Waverly _or_ Nicole for findin’ some comfort in each other.”

Champ opened his mouth to respond. 

“I _ain’t_ finished.” Gus said, folding her arms. Champ snapped his jaw closed. “Now, I’ve known you since you were knee high, runnin’ about your momma’s garden with no pants on, and I’ll tell you this for free, Champ Hardy: if you ever hurt my niece again, I will end you. Now, you know me, and you know I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Do you understand?”

Champ huffed petulantly, but nodded, his face like thunder.

“Good.” Gus said, gesturing to Nedley who was watching the scene play out with a look of extreme, badly disguised weariness. “Now you tell the Sheriff what it is you came in here for, and then get.”

Champ’s lips were still pursed, the sound of his teeth gritting together almost audible. Nedley stepped forwards, hands resting on his belt. “What did you want, son?”

Champ blinked, slowly turning away from glaring at Waverly and Nicole, and said in a strained voice, “We’ve got a couple more bodies turned up off the highway.”

Nedley nodded, sighing. “Well then, I reckon you and me should get to that.” He tipped his hat as he left, pushing Champ bodily towards the door. “Ladies.”

“Well, glad that wasn’t awkward.” Wynonna said casually. “So, how long have you two been boning?” Nicole coughed, choking on air.

“For gods sake, Wynonna.” Gus rolled her eyes. “We have more pressing things to worry about than Waverly’s bedroom situation.”

“Thank you, Gus.” Waverly said primly. “Now if we can please focus on the demon warping our minds for two solitary seconds.”

“Fine.” Wynonna huffed. “We’ll kill this shit bucket and _then_ Haught can explain to me how she talked my baby sister into a finger frenzy.”

“Wynonna!” Waverly shrieked.

Nicole blanched. “I didn’t talk Waverly into-“

“GUYS.” Jeremy said loudly, slamming both hands on the table so that his microscope rattled ominously. “Can I _please_ have some quiet?”

“God,” Wynonna said in a mock hurt voice, “sensitive much?”

“I just need a little peace to finish this serum, which, I might add, is incredibly complex and currently very toxic.” Jeremy said, pressing his fingers to his temples. 

“Ok, ok.” Wynonna reached down and plucked Alice from under the table, the baby whinging and making grabby hands at the toys she’d left behind. “Me, Gus and Haughtie will go search out and distribute these food stashes Doc Holliday and Big Nose Kate have been leaving around town.” She shook her head. “I cannot believe I just said that.”

“What’ll I do?” Waverly asked, insecurity leaking into her voice. She felt once again helpless, an old familiar feeling of being surplus to requirements making her head ache.

Wynonna looked at her with a ‘duh’ expression. “You stay here with that colossal brain of yours and help Jeremy sort the science shit out.”

Waverly beamed. “Ok.”

“Bye, baby.” Nicole said quietly, leaning down to give her lover a lingering kiss on the cheek and a comforting squeeze of the hand.

“Be safe and come back to me in one piece?” Waverly smiled.

“Always.” The redhead agreed, staring into warm brown eyes with a look of devotion.

“Alright, that’s enough of...that.” Wynonna said, gesturing between the two younger women and feigning gagging. “Let’s hit the road, Haught-stuff.”

“Wish me luck.” Nicole grimaced, before following after Wynonna. Gus rolled her eyes, putting her hand on Nicole’s shoulder in a familial gesture as she left. Waverly sighed happily, her heart warming at how well Nicole was fitting in with her family. It gave her hope that maybe, when this was over and they returned to their real lives, there might still be a place for the love brewing between them. Her eyes trailled over the blackboard, where the Remembrance List had been re-written. They’d insisted on adding regular reminders as alarms on everyone’s phones, in the hope that they could stop the memory of the curse slipping and sliding away more than it already did, and Waverly desperately hoped it would be enough.

There was a rhythmic squeaking as Jeremy rolled his chair back, peering through the door to make sure the others had left. “They’re gone, right?”

Waverly looked confused. “Yes?”

“Oh, thank god, we can finally get this show on the road.” He sagged in relief, before jumping up and pulling open a desk draw. From inside, he pulled out a white spray bottle, the kind that would usually store cleaning products. “Ta-da!”

“Is that...?” Waverly gasped, striding forwards eagerly. Jeremy pulled the bottle out of her reach. 

“Uh-uh, I do the driving, I spent hours on this and I’m not having anyone wasting it. That’s why I had to wait until everyone had left.”

“Why?”

Jeremy sighed theatrically. “ _Because_ , Waverly, you’re my _science buddy_. I can trust you to follow the process. If I gave this to one of the others, they’d be spraying it round like it’s a pissing parade before I’d even taken the cap off.”

Waverly smiled, feeling a little proud to be the one trusted with such a big responsibility.

“Now,” the young man continued, excitement lighting up his boyish face, “I’ve done a lot of tinkering, and I’m 75% sure it’s now totally non-toxic, but I’ve only got a few grams from the plant specimens we had here, so it’s a one-go show - no reruns.”

“Ok.” Waverly said, before catching up with what he’d said. “75% sure it’s non-toxic?”

Jeremy waved dismissively. “More like 80. 82.”

“Oh. Well, that’s alright then.” She said uncertainly. 

“Great, great.” Jeremy said, lifting another item out of the draw and fiddling with the buttons.

“What’s the camera for?” 

“I’m going to record what happens when I spray you.” Jeremy answered without looking up. “I want to make sure I’ve gotten a handle on all unknown side-effects for when we brew the next batch.”

Waverly rubbed her forehead. “Jer, did you keep me behind so you’d have a guinea pig?”

“Nooooo, no.” Jeremy laughed awkwardly. “You’re more of a...laboratory assistant.”

“That’s better how?” Waverly asked, shaking her head in disbelief. Jeremy ignored her.

“Ok, so I need you to stand here...and I’m just going to spray this directly into your face.” Waverly clenched her jaw, but didn’t argue. “I need you to try and keep your face holes open for maximum absorption, and make sure to tell me exactly what you’re experiencing. All senses - sight, smell, hearing, touch...everything you feel. Don’t leave anything out.”

Waverly inhaled deeply. “Ok. Let’s do this.”

“Waverly,” Jeremy said, looking at her over the camera blinking in his hand, “you’re the hero of this story.”

Waverley opened her mouth to respond, and he pulled the trigger.

Waverly strained at the urge to slam her eyes closed, the clear droplets moistening her face and floating into her open mouth. She slapped her gums, face crinkling in displeasure. The substance had the bitter, plasticky taste of chlorophyll, and something else - something earthy, like mould or over-ripe fruit.

Nothing else had changed. She closed her eyes in disappointment, poised to tell Jeremy that the experiment was a bust, but when she opened them again, her heart stopped.

She was still in the same place, ostensibly; the sheriff’s back room looked much the same as always, except distinctly...uncared for. The light pouring through the windows was weak and wintery, the strip lights above her head, which only a second before had covered the room in warm light, were now off. There were leaves and bits of paper on the floor, as though they’d been blown in haphazardly by the wind. And it was _cold_. Waverly’s thin cashmere turtleneck did nothing to protect her from the freezing bite of a late-autumn Alberta day. 

“Waverly?” Jeremy said, breaking the brunette from her thoughts. He sounded worried. She turned to look at him and felt her face fall at the sight. “Are you ok?”

He looked unkempt, his black hair lank and greasy, grown longer so that it hung around his ears. His clothes were dirty, and there was a tear in his lab coat that made one side flap loose. He looked gaunt, his cheeks hollowed and his skin grey, the bags under his eyes swollen and puffy.

“I...I’m...ok.” She managed. 

“What can you see?” 

“Everything’s the same but...run down. It looks practically abandoned. Like its been left to go to ruin, but not for long enough that the rots taken hold.”

There was a voice from outside, echoing through the derelict halls. Waverly turned and walked out, gesturing Jeremy to follow her. The station was all but deserted. At the reception desk, Darren sat slumped in his chair, trying to take an ear bashing from Bunny Loblaw with good grace. His eyes were half closed, and his breathing was laboured, like he was struggling with each breath, and as he made a note of her complaint, his hand shook violently. The old woman wasn’t doing much better, her weight clearly held up by will power and little else. She looked tatty, worn out, and as Waverly walked past she realised the older woman was wearing one house slipper, the other foot bare. She glowered snootily at Waverly, and went back to berating the young Officer.

“The people, they look sort of unkempt?” Waverly whispered to Jeremy, trailing along behind her with the camera. “And weak. Really weak.”

Pushing open the frosted glass of the main door to the station, Waverly stepped out, her eyes widening.

The scene in front of her, which she’d seen at least once a week since she was old enough to remember, was _wrong_. Litter blew up and down the main street, trash bags ripped open and spilling their contents on the floor. Outside a florists, where a display of dead roses was wilting in the window, a Scots terrier with grubby off-white fur pulled an unnamed scrap of meat from a strewn bin, and scampered into an alleyway, a hissing house cat on its heels. 

“There’s rubbish everywhere, and the pets seem to have gone feral.” Waverly said quietly into Jeremy’s camera. “Can you not see it?”

Jeremy shook his head. “It just looks normal to me.”

Waverly continued down the street, slipping slightly on the snow that no one had thought to clear. She shivered, the leather skirt she’d put on that morning seeming suddenly foolish. Here and there were the townsfolk going about their days, but they were hunched and slow, staggering from one place to another and all looking as rough as Bunny and Darren had. Near to Shorty’s saloon, a man Waverly vaguely recognised drove his truck, chatting amicably to the woman sat next to him. Waverly leaned her head into the window as he changed into fourth gear. She frowned, seeing that the vehicle wasn’t moving because the petrol had long since run out. 

“Uhhhhhhh, what the fuck was that?” Jeremy asked in a high pitched voice. 

Waverly extracted her head from the truck’s cab. “What was what?”

“I just saw you put your head into a pick-up going 30 miles an hour.” He sounded freaked out.

“It’s not moving.” She said with a frown, poking her arm into the truck and waggling it around. The driver looked horrified for a moment, staring at her fingers and twisting the dead wheel wildly.

Jeremy clamped his eyes shut. “Please stop. It’s making my eyes go funny. It kinda looks like the trucks here and not here at the same time, and I have no idea how to process that your body is here but your arm is currently in a vehicle that I _know_ is just about to turn onto Lincoln Avenue.”

“Fuck this is heavy!” Waverly turned towards a familiar voice; from down the street, Wynonna was struggling with a heavy bag, seemingly filled with cans and bottles. She had one strap and Nicole had the other, both of them bickering as they wobbled down the pavement, Gus following along with her hands in her pockets. They all looked equally messy, Nicole’s hair matted and strewn with saw dust from her DIYing and Wynonna’s face smeared with dirt, but what drew Waverly’s eye was the baby-carrier that her sister carried on her chest, her free hand resting protectively on the padding.

“Alice.” Waverly whispered. She turned to Jeremy, eyes welling up. “Alice and Gus...they aren’t really here. They _can’t_ be here. They moved away.”

The man frowned. “What are you talking about? I can see them right there.” He pointed to the couple hurrying towards them, sagging under the weight of the bags.

Waverly shook her head. “I know but I’m telling you it isn’t possible. I handed Alice over myself.”

“Hey, assholes, grab the bag will ya?” Wynonna growled, dumping her half of the sack on the floor and stretching out her fingers. “Christ that weighs a tonne.”

“Baby?” Nicole asked, her brow furrowed as she took in her lover’s slumped shoulders.

Waverly sniffed, wiping away an errant tear. The image in front of her flickered, like static on a TV screen, and suddenly the world was as it had been before. The sun shone down, the streets were clean, and in Wynonna’s arms, the blonde-haired little girl gurgled happily, waving her arms at her aunt for upsies. 

“Baby, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.” Nicole stepped forwards, her open palms outstretched.

Waverly stared at her family for a moment, her mouth opening and closing erratically, before she dashed wordlessly back into the police station.

——————————————————-

The four of them sat morosely looking at the words Waverly had written in black marker on an A3 sheet of paper. They’d sent Gus home with Alice and a stack of tins and bottles of water, partly to ensure Alice got a good night’s sleep, but also to get them out of the way. The table was littered with empty containers that they’d ravaged, their hunger for real sustenance suddenly unbearable.

“You must be mistaken.” Wynonna said eventually, throwing an empty can of beans into the trash. 

“I’m not.” Waverly said with certainty. The thoughts were fading now, as the mistletoe wore off and the glamour sank back in, but she could still remember the heart break of handing Alice over to Perry, the tears when Gus left. “They can’t be here.”

Wynonna stood up abruptly, stabbing a finger at the table. “Well they fucking are here, Waverly. You’ve seen them with your own eyes, touched them, damn well smelt them. Now you’re telling me they’re what, in our heads?”

“No. I’m not saying that, I...” Waverly bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

“That’s great.” Wynonna said nastily. “Fucking amazing. I love betting my daughter’s frigging existence on _’I don’t know_.”

“Waverly is just telling you what she saw, Wynonna.” Nicole said in a placating voice.

“You can stay out of it.” The older Earp snapped. “It’s nothing to you anyway.”

“Wynonna! She’s my...” Waverly hesitated. “She’s my Nicole, she cares about us all.”

“Oh, brill.” Wynonna said sarcastically. “Tell me then Red, if my baby and our aunt are apparently hundreds of miles away, how the fuck were we all together not 30 minutes ago? Hmm?”

“I don’t...I’m not sure.” Nicole admitted, swallowing heavily as the tension in the air made it stifling.

Jeremy cleared his throat. “Maybe it’s not them.” He cringed as three sets of eyes settled on him. 

“You better be ready to explain that, clearly and in detail.” Wynonna said, her voice low and dangerous.

Jeremy coughed again. “Just...if this demon is weaving this magical mystery world in the confines of Purgatory, maybe it needs to...like....actually be _in_ Purgatory. Somewhere we wouldn’t suspect.”

“Someone we wouldn’t expect.” Nicole said quietly.

“You’re saying my daughters a demon?” Wynonna growled, walking round the desk and hauling Jeremy up by his lapels.

“No!” The scientist squeaked. “I’m saying maybe the demon is pretending to be your daughter! Or your aunt! Or maybe someone else entirely!”

“Wynonna, put him down.” Waverly hissed. “We need him!”

Reluctantly, a scowl etched into her face, the brunette dropped the luckless man back onto his seat, the chair rolling away a few feet as Jeremy allowed himself to hyperventilate. “We need to find that demon, so I can kill it with my own bare hands.”

“We _need_ more mistletoe.” Nicole said, reaching for her jacket.

“And warmer clothes.” Waverly said, getting to her feet with a look of determination. “Then we go kick some demon butt.”

———————————————————-

They stood in front of the proud oak in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. It’s trunk and lower branches were blackened and still mildly smoking in the midday heat, the empty canister of petrol giving no illusions about what had occurred at the site. 

A cursory glance quickly revealed that any mistletoe that may have remained was long gone, incinerated and mingling with the ash drifting across the clearing and the fumes that made the eyes water. 

Wynonna threw down her wheel barrow, the clatter ringing out across the forest and making nearby crows scream loudly as they took to flight. “For fucks sake. Anyone got any other bright ideas?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re getting close now team...
> 
> Thanks to everyone who is still keeping up with this story. Not long to go now!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a lot to unpack in this chapter team - grab a cup of tea, get comfy, and we’ll begin.

Alice was asleep on her front, one hand wrapped around the bars of her crib and a strong, wheezing snore issuing from her open mouth. Wynonna watched her by the light of the hallway, her arms folded and her heart hurting with love.

She had always dreaded being a mother; had avoided it at all costs, really. Sure, there had been scares through the years, as she lived out her wild youth and wilder adulthood, but nothing had, thankfully, ever stuck. Not until Alice. Wynonna remembered with chagrin the resentment she’d felt throughout her pregnancy, fuelled by fear and the gnawing, persistent self-loathing that had been bred into her when she was still just a child. All that had vanished the second she got the girl in her arms, lying on the grubby, beer stained pool table at Shorty’s. She’d been so small and fragile, and so irrefutably _hers_ , that Wynonna had known in that instant that she would never love anything or anyone the way she loved Alice Michelle Earp. That she would fight with everything she had to keep the child safe and healthy and as damn well happy as this miserable world would allow. But it didn’t alter that she had wished every day of the preceding 9 months that the baby would do them both a favour and just...disappear.

And now she might get her wish; the toddler peacefully dreaming in the spare room of Gus McCready’s house might be revealed as a demon, or a genie, or something else entirely, and be taken away from her forever. There was no lying to herself; losing Alice would tear her up into confetti, scattered and thin, ready to dissolve at the first hint of rain. 

Wynonna swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “I don’t care what they say.” She whispered, her hand ghosting over the baby’s back and playing in the warmth radiating through her little orange onesie. “You aren’t a demon. You’re my angel, and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

In the cot, Alice huffed a sigh, wiggling slightly before settling down and resuming her rhythmic snoring.

The smell when it came was faint and familiar, and wildly unexpected, a mix of tobacco, hops and slight stale sweat. Wynonna crinkled her nose, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Slowly, she stepped back from the crib, reaching to grab the first thing that came to hand - a cheap plastic sit on car, the kind an excitable toddler could use to push themselves aggressively quickly through an uncarpeted house without regard for breakables or other people’s ankles. 

“I know you’re there, asshole.” She hissed to the empty nursery, waving the toy threateningly in front of her.

“Wynonna...” a voice whispered, just on the cusp of hearing.

“Who's asking?” The Earp asked, eyes scanning the gloom. “In fact, doesn’t matter. You should just piss off and come back at a more convenient time. Like in the daylight. Or, you know, never.”

“Protect the child, Wynonna....” the voice murmured. It was masculine, with a heavy sprinkling of southern twang that she vaguely recognised, although from where she didn’t know.

“Show yourself and I’ll protect her by shoving this up your dick.” She growled, swinging the plastic novelty at the empty air. Despite the anger in her words, she felt the strange urge to cry - whether from grief or joy, she wasn’t sure.

The scent grew stronger, a soothing balm wrapping around her, as though someone had taken her into their arms. As if through muscle memory, the resistance left her body, and she dropped the push car.

“Who are you?” She sighed wearily, pressing her hand over her eyes to hide the liquid pooling there. “What do you want?”

“What I always wanted...” the voice whispered. “To love you...both....”

Wynonna stiffened. A memory bobbed to the surface, ice on a wine dark sea, before drifting back down into the black emptiness. “Doc?” She questioned, already knowing the answer but still unsure as to why this particular long dead folk hero would be bothering her, proclaiming fealty, or why she found that fact so reassuring. She opened her mouth to ask, and the world trembled.

There was a roar like a high pressure gas main venting nearby that made the windows rattle. Without thinking, Wynonna grabbed the baby and sprinted for the door, Alice clutched to her chest. She didn’t look back; her younger years - her trouble years - had taught her that only a fool looks back to see what’s chasing them when they should be focusing on their escape.

She skidded into the kitchen on socked feet, barrelling straight into Gus, who lost her footing and slid backwards across the wooden floor. The cups of tea in her hands skittered away, shedding amber liquid.

“What the _fuck_ , Wynonna?” Gus threw her hands up, looking down at the warm tea soaking into the pale blue cotton of her pyjamas.

“Did you hear it?” Wynonna demanded frantically, reaching down to tug her aunt to her feet. The noise had stopped. In her arms, miraculously, the child slept on, fingers wrapped in her mother’s long brown hair.

“What?” Gus asked, instantly on alert. She stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a meat tenderiser from the counter top.

“In Alice’s room, there was...a man, I think.” Wynonna creased her brow. “Or a ghost? And then this ear piercing mother-fucking roar.”

“A man?” Gus set her face in grim determination; ghosts and spectral noises were a lot to unpack, but she’d raised two attractive nieces in a country town, and chasing their clandestine night-time visitors out of the house had been a frequent occurrence. She understood the rules when it came to unwanted men. “You leave this to me.” 

She prowled towards the spare room, that they’d been grandly calling the nursery even though it was really just a box-room used to store winter clothes. Wynonna grabbed a bread knife from the block, and trailed after her aunt.

“Right, scumbag,” Gus said loudly, acting on instinct from her years as caregiver, prodding the door open with her foot, “get your trousers and get _out_ of my house!” 

“It’s not Champ.” Wynonna hissed. “I’d hope whoever is in there already has their damn pants on!”

Gus ignored her, and, briefly relaxing her grip on the implement in her hand, slammed on the light. The room appeared empty. Stepping over to the crib, she bent to peer underneath, holding her bad back as she did so. Behind her, careful not to jostle the sleeping bairn, Wynonna opened the wardrobe, relieved but also confused to find it empty.

Holding her arms out in a shrug, Gus turned to face her niece. “There’s nothing h-“

She blinked. She wasn’t in her house anymore. She was standing in another bedroom, a king size bed to her left with soft, inviting paisley sheets, and to her right a long line of built-in wardrobes, glass fronted, the kind she’d always coveted but never been able to afford. On the floor in front of her there was an affronted wail. Gus looked down to see her grandniece staring up at her with big, angry eyes. Alice was naked, and something in her expression made Gus’s blood run cold. Carefully, she picked the child up, letting her rest her blonde head on one shoulder. Gus patted the baby’s back absently. Of course this was where she was; her master bedroom, safe in the city with Wynonna’s daughter. There was somewhere else though...somewhere she should be...somewhere....

Wynonna was screaming for them when Gus popped back into sight, a naked Alice cuddled in her arms. The sleep suit was clutched tightly in the younger woman’s hands, and she looked more scared than Gus had ever seen her, instantly rushing forwards and yanking the still nude Alice from her aunt’s arms.

“What the hell was that!” She hissed, backing away; Gus blinked, confused.

“I don’t...uh...”

“Fuck, is it you?” Wynonna picked up the bread knife from the floor, holding it out in front of her. “Are you the one doing all this? If it’s you, I swear to god I’m taking tomorrow off.”

Gus looked affronted. “No, of course not. How can you ask me that?”

Wynonna paused, looking between the old woman and the child. Alice huffed a breath and buried her face into the warm wool of her mother’s sweater. 

“I can’t take the risk.” Wynonna conceded, looking regretful but still full of protective ire. 

“Wynonna, you’re being ridiculous. I’m _me_.” Gus took a step forwards, and was horrified to see her niece back away even further.

“Stay back, Gus. I love you, but we’re leaving, and I don’t want you to follow us. I _have_ to put Alice first.”

Gus watched them leave without moving, reluctantly accepting the instruction. As she heard the old knackered pick-up pull out of the driveway, she pictured Alice’s vengeful little face, the look of barely restrained disgust that made Gus feel small and unwelcome; then she sat on her haunches, and sobbed.

—————-———————————————

Waverly had been surprised when Wynonna turned up at the homestead at around 11pm, but had known better than to argue as she’d dutifully set up the couch as a bed.

The house was taking shape, under Nicole’s careful attention, and the living room was actually starting to look like one, with the drafts excluded and the floor and walls stripped and re-painted in bright, warm colours. To her credit, Nicole hadn’t looked at all nonplussed at the unexpected visitor; instead, she’d disappeared out to her car, returning with an empty cardboard box lined with clean blankets for Alice to sleep in. “It’s dangerous to sleep with the baby in bed with you.” She’d shrugged at Wynonna’s confused expression, before wandering back to bed.

Now it was morning, and the day had dawned clear and warm. Remembering what she’d seen the day before, Waverly had nevertheless wrapped herself and Alice up in thick layers before tiptoeing into the kitchen to feed the child some rusks and canned peaches. 

“Auntie Waverly’s gonna get you!” She teased after the baby had finished smearing herself and the floor around her with mashed biscuit and syrup, pretending to sneak up on the giggling toddler with a washcloth in hand. “I’m gonna get you and clean you all up! You can’t hide!”

“Get away from her!”

Waverly started, instinctively moving in front of the baby before she realised it was only Wynonna looming angrily in the doorway.

The older sister marched forwards, grabbing the sticky Alice from the floor. She glared at her sister.

“We were just playing.” Waverly said with hurt in her voice.

“I don’t want you near her.” Wynonna said, checking over the girl as though looking for signs of injury. Waverly’s heart clenched. “I don’t want _any of you_ near her.”

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” Nicole walked into the room, drawn by the sound of raised voices. She leaned to tickle Alice under the chin, and Wynonna snatched the baby away.

“It’s not _personal_ , Waverly, ok?” She clarified, her tone slightly calmer at the sight of sorrow on her little sister’s face. “But Alice has to be my priority.”

“She’s my priority too.” Waverly said sadly, wringing the flannel in her hands.

Wynonna snorted. “Sure, that’s why you all agreed with Jeremy yesterday, is it? That’s why you all think my little girl is some sort of demon hell spawn?”

“Wynonna, that’s not fair, none of us _agree_ with Jeremy, he was just putting forward hypotheses.” Nicole said, attempting to mediate.

“Yeah, well he can take his hypotheses, roll them up real tight, and go _fuck_ himself with them.” Wynonna growled. Alice made a ‘bah-bah-bah’ sound, clapping her hands at Nicole as though asking for upsies. The redhead swallowed nervously, looking between the baby, her girlfriend and Wynonna. “Don’t you start.” the mother hissed, jiggling Alice on her hip.

“Wynonna, please.” Waverly said desperately, still kneeling on the floor. “Don’t shut us out.”

“Just...stay out of our way, Waverly.” Wynonna growled, walking back to the couch and pulling out a fresh nappy for Alice. She refused to look at her sister, now hovering in the doorway with a pathetically sad expression; she knew if she did, she’d realise she was being irrational and crack, and she couldn’t risk it.

“Wave...” Nicole said carefully, reaching to place a hand on her lover’s shoulder.

“No, it’s ok Nicole.” Waverly flinched away, backing towards the exit. Nicole frowned. “I’m fine, I just need some time on my own. I’ll be back soon ok, just...leave me be.”

As she left, eyes clouding with tears, she didn’t see the forlorn, conflicted look on her sweetheart’s face. 

As soon as the fresh air hit, Waverly started running. She was wearing high heeled boots, and they were wholly unsuited to the terrain, but anguish kept her moving, wobbling and rolling over the rutted earth as she rounded the fence and set off across the tundra beyond. 

She didn’t understand how Wynonna could ever think she would hurt her niece; she’d loved Alice with an uncomplicated ferocity since the screaming baby was first placed in her arms, still slimy from being born and hollering as loud as her tiny lungs would allow, as if to announce her arrival to the entire world. But it didn’t stop a hint of doubt seeding in her mind that maybe, after-all that had happened, Jeremy was right; that maybe the Alice she loved wasn’t the Alice currently ensconced in the homestead.

When the lactic acid got too much in her legs, Waverly stopped running, wiping at the free flowing tears that were ruining her mascara. She hadn’t realised how far she’d travelled, but somehow she’d reached the edge of the pine forest; the smell of decaying earth and fresh needles hit her senses invitingly, but the woods themselves were dark and brooding, the sensation of claustrophobia rolling from between the tight packed trunks.

“Waverly, come to me.” The voice calling out was soft and feminine, echoing through the branches, but Waverly could hear that it sounded strained; needy.

“Who...who are you?”

“Waverly...” It called again. “Come to me...help me...”

The brunette looked behind her, up the hill she barely recalled racing down, and then at the tree-line. Going into the dark, damp cave of the forest felt like a very silly thing to do. But at the same time, she was Waverly Earp, and that meant that when someone needed her help, she wasn’t the sort of person to walk away. Pulling her cardigan close around her, she set off in the direction of the voice.

“That’s it...keep going...” It wavered. “Close...” 

“Where are you?” Waverly called, brushing low hanging branches out of her face. “Keep talking so I can find you.” Silence answered her. She stepped into a small clearing, under a canopy made by two fallen trees. “Where are you?” She tried again.

“I’m here.”

The voice was right in her ear, whispery and sensual, and when Waverly spun around in horror, unnaturally strong hands held her in place.

“Kate?” She managed, her heart beating fit to burst.

The woman looked ill; that was the first thing Waverly noticed. There was an unhealthy pallor beneath her dark skin, and the whites of her eyes were dry and bloodshot. Her hair, usually so luxurious, was straggled and matted, as though she had lost the energy to care for it. Around her neck hung a string of white berries, and she stood close enough that Waverly could smell the sour taste of her breath. As she watched, the vampire leaned in and sniffed a deep inhale along Waverly’s neck. 

“Kate, what are you doing?” Waverly asked, shivering. Kate leaned back, and Waverly saw to her horror that long white fangs now protruded over her plump bottom lip.

“I’m dying, Waverly.” She said simply, looking at the woman shaking in her grasp as though she was a glass of water in the desert. “I’m starving to death, and it’s your fault.”

“My fault?” Waverly asked, surprised.

Kate sighed, sagging slightly. “You’re the smart one, Waverly. I trusted you to end this quickly so I could feed again. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve eaten anything...substantial? I can’t feast on you people when you’re _starving_.” Kate looked longingly at her detainee’s throbbing carotid artery, and licked her lips.

“I’m trying to fix it!” Waverly insisted, squirming. “The mistletoe was all destroyed but we’re trying to find another way!”

“If you can’t find the demon, Waverly, find the person who cast the wish.” Kate growled. Her grip tightened, long painted fingernails digging into Waverly’s biceps. “You know who it is!”

“I don’t!” Waverly insisted, panic rising in her chest. “How can I?”

“He practically _confessed_!” Kate shouted, shaking the body in her hands as though it were a rag doll. “That pathetic husband of yours! He - practically - confessed!”

“Put her down Contessa!” Doc roared, stepping into the small clearing, a look of fury on his face. Over his shoulder he carried a burlap sack, fat and full, which he threw onto the floor. Kate snarled, but did as he asked. “That’s for you, Waverly Earp.” He said, eyes never leaving his ex-wife. “You take it and go home now. Me and Kate are overdue a _rendez-vous_.”

Without glancing back, Waverly grabbed the sack, surprised to find it relatively light, and scuttled away.

“You stole my meal.” Kate bit out.

Doc smirked. “I brought you another.” He stepped behind a tree, pulling out a brace of fresh, fat rabbits.

“More vermin.” Kate rolled her eyes.

Doc shrugged. “Better’n dyin’. And it will be over soon.” He stared in the direction that Waverly had gone. “One way or another.”

———-————————————————

Jeremy sat in the lab at the Sheriff’s office, feet up on the desk, playing Candy Crush on his phone. He wasn’t sure why he was even there; without any further leads and no mistletoe to speak off, there was little to no hope of him or his science fixing reality. But somehow, he felt better being there, as though by just being in proximity to his equipment, he was somehow helping.

The alarm on his phone went off, the standard notification popping up on screen _WISH BROKE REALITY! DON’T FORGET!_

“Yeah yeah, no need to rub it in.” He muttered, muting the alarm. 

The door to the lab opened with a slam, revealing Waverly carrying a stuffed sack with a look of triumph on her pretty face. 

“What-“ Jeremy began, stopping short when the bag hit the desk, spilling green leaves and delicate white berries onto the counter.

“I don’t know where he got it, but Doc’s come through for us.” She said with a beaming grin.

“Ok, I don’t remember who that is, but this is perfect.” Jeremy jumped to his feet, grabbing a hunk of mistletoe in each hand.

“Can you recreate the serum?” Waverly asked eagerly, bouncing on the spot like an excited child.

“Uh, yeah.” Jeremy said, insulted. “Give me an hour and I’ll have enough to choke a horse.”

“Just enough to choke a demon.” Waverly said with a worrying smirk, pulling her phone out of her pocket and hitting dial. “And maybe some left over for a lying, sack-of-shit man-boy. Nicole, baby - yes I’m fine - no, no need to worry - ok, I’m glad she’s ok too - yes, and Alice - Can you meet me at Shorty’s in an hour? I’ll call my aunt. I think we’ve cracked it.”

———————————————————

Champ was sat at the bar chatting to Shorty and enjoying a well-earned beer when the commotion started. He turned, frowning, and felt the punch before he saw it coming.

“What the fuck?!” He shouted, lying on his back on the dirty bar floor and clutching his now throbbing jaw. 

Wynonna stood over him, her face awash with thunder. In the baby carrier on her chest, Alice watched the scene with childish glee, kicking out her feet in excitement. “I am going to own you, Champ Hardy.” 

“What have I _done_?” The man whined from the floor.

“Oh, don’t even try it, Champ.” Waverly chimed in, stepping forwards with her hands on her hips. “Just admit you made the wish.”

Champ looked perplexed. “What the hell are you bitches on?”

Wynonna fumed, and landed a jab to the officer’s ribs with the toe of her boot; he howled, trying to crawl backwards but found himself pressed too close to the bar to allow for reprieve.

“Wynonna, that’s _enough_.” Shorty yelled, slamming a meaty fist onto the bar when he was ignored.

“Whoa, Shortys right, you’re being too heavy handed, Wynonna!” Nicole said, putting herself between the creature on the floor and the seething woman already winding her arm back to land another blow. “We can’t just beat it out of him, this isn’t Guantanamo Bay!”

“Why are you defending her ex?” Wynonna spat, gesturing a thumb over her shoulder at Waverly. “He’s a shit!”

“I’m not defending him, I just think-“

“Maybe it’s _you_.” Wynonna glowered, stepping into the red head’s personal space. 

Nicole scoffed, straightening up to her full height, chin held high. “Is that your best guess, Earp? Cause you’re starting to sound a little paranoid.”

“She isn’t the demon, Wynonna.” Waverly said, trying to slide in between the two posturing women. “You’re being ridiculous!”

“Oh for the love of Christ.” Gus, hovering near the back of the group next to an open mouthed Jeremy, plucked the spray bottle from his hand, and striding forwards sprayed Champ liberally with the serum. He squealed, wiping at his face, and around them people began to cough as the mist enveloped the saloon.

“A little goes a long way there, Mrs McCready.” Jeremy gasped, swallowing to try and get rid of the taste of mistletoe and mould burning his throat.

“Well,” Shorty said, as the glamour shrouding the bar disintegrated and his camouflage melted away to reveal the most attractive woman Purgatory had ever seen, “I guess the jig is up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the reveal wasn’t a disappointment; let me know your thoughts?
> 
> Side note: I based Alice in this story on my youngest niece, who is an absolute character, but also has the most amazing resting-psycho face you’ll ever see - for a toddler, it’s impressively worrying.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who ordered the angst?

The room stood still, and then as one the other patrons scrambled for the door, their suddenly empty glasses and plates bereft of food abandoned behind them. The remaining group took stock, mouth’s open, at the ravaged interior of the bar, and their own ungainly appearances. 

Waverly, having seen the transformation once before, stared only at the delicate, feminine figure in front of her, ignoring the way Nicole gasped when she looked down at her Sheriff’s uniform, now tattered and soiled, or the way Gus dashed forwards to stand by her eldest Niece, one hand resting on Alice’s blonde head as though reassuring herself that they were both still there. As the magic retreated, forgotten memories started to bubble and curdle, and Waverly wasn’t sure she was going to enjoy all of them.

“Who the _fuck_ are you?” Wynonna asked, staring down the woman now leaning casually on the bar. She was beautiful, indescribably so, but it quickly became apparent that there was a brittleness to her allure. It reminded Wynonna of the cheap 3D effect images sold as bookmarks in tacky tourist shops - realistic enough, for what they were, but eye-wateringly false as soon as one looked twice. 

“Well, you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it, so lets just say you can call me Heather.” The woman said in a lilting accent, smiling pleasantly.

“Because its of the magical realm and our human tongues wouldn’t be able to wrap around the unearthly phonetics.” Jeremy said knowingly. 

Heather gave him an old fashioned look. “Because it’s Irish; I’ve heard the rest of the world struggle with the name ‘ _Niamh_ ‘, so you’re not getting your vocal chords on mine.”

“What did you do to Shorty?” Waverly demanded, looking around for the bar keeper even as the certainty that he was gone solidified in her mind.

“Oh dear,” the stranger said with transparent insincerity, “the glamour does tend to addle the brain somewhat. Your memories should return shortly. But to save you some time - he’s dead.”

“Dead?” Gus asked in shock, clutching her hand to her chest as the grief of losing an old friend hit her anew.

“Dead.” Heather clarified happily. “He has been for some time. I needed a face that you would trust, so I stole his. I mean, it could have been that handsome Mr Dolls, but I couldn’t risk choosing someone you might get too close to; might suspect.” She sighed, straightening to her full height and brushing creases from her red and white polka dot sundress. “No one pays attention to a gruff innkeeper with a heart of gold. Or at least, not once they believe they’ve got a few beers in them, and boy can you hicks drink.”

“Dolls...” Wynonna said, wobbling heavily against the bar as painful memories came flooding back.

“I know.” Heather said sympathetically, leaning across to pat her hand. “It hurts. But it’ll be ok soon. Once this horrible antidote wears off, Heather will make it all better.”

Wynonna snatched her hand back. “Like fuck it will. Your mind games are over, demon.”

Heather looked insulted, her pretty face falling into a pout. “That’s hurtful. I’m not a demon - those big galumphing clots have all the style and subtlety of a claw hammer to the kneecaps. Don’t insult me.”

“What are you then?” Jeremy asked with interest.

“Bless you and your adorable curiosity, young man. Why, I’m just a humble fairy, trying to make ends meet in a world that’s lost it’s way.”

“A fairy?” Wynonna snorted, looking in mirth at her friends. “What, like Tinkerbell? Where’s your wings, Sleeping Beauty?”

“Firstly,” Heather said with an exasperated sigh, “Sleeping Beauty wasn’t the fairy, she was the bewitch-ee. Although, I would like to buy Mr Disney a large drink for his work in making my kind child friendly. Makes it so much easier for us to lure them away. Secondly, no wings. Only glamour. Think of it as a form of anaesthesia. Like snake venom, rendering a mouse immobile while it’s being eaten whole.” She leaned forwards with a cheeky wink. “You’re the mice.”

“You’re going to _eat_ us?” Nicole demanded, horrified, subconsciously manoeuvring herself so that she half shielded Waverly with her own taller frame.

“No!” The fairy giggled as if that was the most ridiculous suggestion she had ever heard, moving around the bar with a swish of her skirts. “You humans, you’re all so literal! I don’t eat people!”

“Thank god.” Waverly said, mildly relieved.

“I eat their pain.” Heather finished, jumping up onto a bar stool with a flourish.

“You do what now?” Wynonna asked after an uncomfortable moment of silence.

“Pain.” Heather clarified. “Agony. Mortal suffering. It’s what nourishes us. We make you feel worse than you ever knew you could, and it sustains us. It’s a tricky concept to put into human terms - I mean, we don’t have any of the bits that you people believe we would need to allow for your lack-lustre understanding of digestion, but just take my word for it.”

“That’s barbaric.” Waverly gasped, her hand covering her mouth.

Heather turned sharp eyes on her. “No, actually, it isn’t. When you eat a nice steak, do you think about what the cow went through before it got to your plate? Do you personally go and make sure it’s spent a happy life, frolicking in the fields and eating all the green grass it wants? No, of course not. You’re content in the knowledge that you’re about to get a good meal. _You’re_ barbaric. We fairies don’t do that. All we do is grant mortal’s their keenest wishes. We make the world lovely and fluffy, full of all good things, and while your minds are off enjoying themselves, we feast on the drawn out demise of your human shells. You don’t even feel a thing.”

Waverly opened her mouth to disagree, but Heather continued, a finger resting pensively on her chin. “Although, there is something to be said for wishes in their own right; there is no surer way to cause a person pain than to give them _exactly_ what they think they want. Confusion, mental distress...” she exhaled dreamily. “So delicious. So predictable.”

“You’re sick.” Nicole growled, remembering the look in Nedley’s eyes when he’d returned with stretcher after stretcher loaded with bodies, with the people he’d grown up with and grown old with. She remembered the day in the barn when everything felt wrong and in her frustration, she’d wanted to tear the world into shreds. “You’re really twisted.”

“And you’re an interfering judgemental little know-it-all.” Heather said coolly. “But that doesn’t mean we have to get personal.”

“It doesn’t matter whether what you did was right or wrong,” Waverly said loudly, drowning out the sound of her partner’s comeback, “you need to undo Champ’s wish, right now.”

“Yeah.” Wynonna felt weight at her hip and grinned, looking down to where Peacemaker was still holstered with a smirk. She gently prised it free, rubbing the cuff of her sleeve over the metal with a feeling of security blossoming in her chest; she must, she realised, have been wearing it the whole time without even knowing it. “One way or another, this shit ends now. I’d rather not have to shoot you in the face though, I get the feeling you’re an endangered species or some such shit. So just end Champ’s twisted little fantasy and piss off back to Cork. Right. Fucking. Now.”

Heather looked unimpressed. “Champ’s wish?” Her cold, reptilian eyes landed on the man in question, still clutching his aching face and looking woefully out of his depth. Her gaze travelled lazily across the room, unblinking, until it landed on a wholly different figure. “I think someone’s been feeding you porky pies, Miss Earp.”

“What?” Wynonna asked suspiciously, following her line of sight.

“It takes a certain level of desperation to cast a wish big enough to ruin this many lives.” The fairy said, raising a pointed eyebrow. “Champ hasn’t the intelligence to manage it. He doesn’t think deeply enough about anything, let alone his future. Isn’t that right, Waverly?”

The room, as one, turned to face the youngest Earp. 

“What?” Waverly asked uncertainly, squirming under the sudden intense focus of the whole room.

Heather laughed, high and cruel, and her face changed slightly; suddenly, she could have been Waverly’s twin. “Oh I _wish_ I could be normal again. I wish _everything_ was just _normal_ again.” The fairy said in Waverly’s own voice, before the disguise fell away to reveal the mocked-up face beneath. “Well, ta-da! You got your wish. Is it as wonderful as you expected?”

“No...” Waverly said with confusion. “I didn’t...I wouldn’t have...” 

Then the memory hit, hard and unforgiving and utterly irrefutable.

_The pain, the disappointment and the shame - they burned in her mind as the unkind words reverberated around her skull. She’d never been overly popular; had grown used to the unkindnesses that a small town would throw at someone tainted by bad blood. But this was new, the petty and unavoidable abuse...and she hated it. She’d lain awake for hours, listening to Nicole breathing softly beside her, until her thoughts got so loud that she’d gotten up. Sat on the side of the bed in the icy midnight chill, she’d idly picked up the locket that Nicole had gifted her on their now-ruined date. She looked down at the small gold oval in her hands, running the pad of her thumb over the inscription. It was Gaelic, and she had no idea what it said, but the letters were pretty and the shape of them under her skin was soothing. “I wish I could just be normal again. I wish everything could be normal.” She muttered, one tear slipping free to land against the cold metal. The face of the locket opened as the drop rolled away, apparently of its own accord, and the light had been blinding, searing, painful, even. And then....nothing._

“There it is.” Heather smirked. “Memories coming back now, are they?”

“You...you _asked_ for this?” Nicole rasped, hurt painted clear on her face.

Waverly swallowed. “I did...but...it wasn’t about you...it wasn’t about any of _you_.”

“We don’t have time.” Wynonna growled, a look of pure murder in her eyes. She turned back to the fairy smiling smugly from her stool, and raised her gun. “Fucking fix it.”

“Fix it?” Heather said, tilting her head in question. “Are you sure that’s what you want? Because last night you were quite adamant you wanted to _keep_ your baby here, with you. I managed to bring the little angel and the old hag you packed her off to here, but once the wish is over...” she made a gesture with her hands. “Poof! They’re back where they belong - miles and miles away from you.”

“Why did you bring us here?” Gus frowned, her hand on Wynonna’s bicep to stop the younger woman’s forwards momentum. “ _How_ did you bring us here?”

Heather crossed her legs primly. “The ‘why’ is easy peasy, Gus McCready. I needed to keep the Earp heir quiet. I’d heard about her, oh yes. Couldn’t have her sticking her nose or her gun in where it wasn’t wanted, interrupting my dinner plans. So I gave her what she wanted more than anything, and thus removed the temptation. It’s the same reason I sent that little bitch,” she pointed at Nicole, scowling, and just for a second her beautiful face crumbled to reveal wide, snake-esque eyes and rows of sharp teeth, “as far away from dear, sweet Waverly as I could get her, stuck on that homestead until the food ran out, unloved and uncared for, out of sight and mind. Unable to distract Waverly from her perfect life as Mrs Champ Hardy. _Not_ that she’d follow the script.” 

“You’re a fucking asshole.” Nicole hissed, clenching her fists.

Heather giggled girlishly. “Sticks and stones, Sheriff, sticks and stones. As for the ‘how’...it was more complicated. I had to exploit your connection to this place and to Wynonna. It took a lot of energy and some very difficult cross-county negotiations with several not very nice whimsical beasts, but I think we can agree that it really put the cherry on top of the ruse. Really added a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’.”

“So,” the fairy said sweetly, “what’s it to be, Wynonna? Your miserable, lonely life of yesterday, or the happy family I’ve given you? I’ll even promise to leave you and Alice alive when I’m done. Can’t say fairer than that!”

Wynonna gulped, tears forming as she looked at the baby cradled in her arms. Alice looked up at her with big, trusting eyes. She felt a hand slip into her own, and stared into Gus’s comforting, no-nonsense face. The old woman gave a half smile. “It’s ok, Wynonna. Just do what you have to do.” She said, her voice soft.

“I know.” Wynonna nodded, pressing a kiss to Alice’s curls. Then, without preamble, she turned and punched the fairy hard in its smug face.

The creature screamed blue murder, rolling onto the floor and jumping up into a squat, talons bared. The image of a young, pretty woman flickered and then vanished, revealing a squat straggly thing, all green-ish skin and spidery limbs. Wynonna kicked it in the chest, and it landed on its back on the dirty floor. It went to move, but found Peacemaker’s barrell pressed directly into its greasy forehead.

“You’ve got it wrong!” It squealed, it’s voice high-pitched and grating, none of the lovely Irish twang left; it didn’t even sound human. Around the saloon, random flashes of glamour shot out, turning the furniture into gruesome animals and making the air shimmer an ungodly purple-blue. “The wish can’t be broken without me!”

Wynonna cocked the gun. “The hell it can’t.” She quipped, and pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe it’s finally all out in the open. I’ve been avoiding responding to your comments for a few chapters now because I couldn’t trust myself not to spoiler it...


	15. Chapter 15

They stepped out of Shorty’s Saloon into cold air, the freezing wind making them shiver in unison after weeks of for-show sunshine. Despite the fairy’s assertion, the glamour _was_ starting to fade, albeit treacle slow; it crept across the vision like fire up paper, incinerating illusions and revealing the grey dismal light of reality in its wake. The few people already on the street looked shaken and scared, with more pouring out of cars and buildings as the magic abandoned them and real-life began to kick their memories into gear; gradually around town voices could be heard growing louder and more panicked as the dream evaporated and people became aware of their fragile states and hopelessness.

“I guess you’re right, most things can be solved with a well placed bullet.” Waverly chuckled nervously, feeling desolate, and looking over at her sister.

The older woman was staring down at the empty baby carrier still attached to her chest; carefully she undid the clasps, removing the item but nevertheless holding it tightly in her hands. She looked far away, lost in her thoughts, and Waverly saw that her knuckles were turning white. “Nonna?” She asked gently, moving to cover her sister’s hand with her own smaller one. 

Before she could make contact, Wynonna jerked away, blinking at her surroundings with glassy eyes. She cleared her throat. “Yeah, totally.” Glancing down at the carrier one last time, Waverly watched the woman toss it carelessly into a pile of discarded rubbish bags, rolling her shoulders and plastering on a brittle smile. “Well, not that this hasn’t been fun, but I’ve got to go. Places to be, people to see.”

“Wynonna...” Waverly called, but the Earp heir was already striding away, shoulders hunched against the dismal weather and hands shoved into her tight jean pockets.

“Yeah, I’m going to bounce too.” Jeremy announced with a wide grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Totally just remembered that I’m actually single and spent the last 2 weeks playing house with my real-life man crush, so I’m just going to go home, close the curtains, and not come out until the humiliation wears off. So maybe I’ll see you guys at New Years or Easter or something.” 

Waverly swallowed heavily as the scientist walked away, stopping with a puzzled expression when he saw Robin across the street, smiling awkwardly. They both waved half-heartedly, and then, looking embarrassed, walked in opposite directions.

“Oh god, this is awful.” Waverly groaned, turning to face her girlfriend with her hands on her head.

Nicole regarded her with cold, guarded eyes, her face closed off but her stance markedly casual.  
“Nicole, I-“ the younger woman started, before the Sheriff cut her off.

“Are you ok to drive yourself home?” She asked in her Police Officer voice, clipped and formal, devoid of any of the tenderness she reserved for those she loved; Waverly winced to hear it.

“You’re not coming?”

The redhead looked pointedly across the street to where Nedley was standing, wearing a grubby Hawaiian shirt over a torn vest, looking perplexed at the standard issue PPD sidearm he held in his shaking hand. “I need to speak to Randy. There’s a lot of people who will be frightened and sick. We need a co-ordinated response.”

“Oh.” Waverly looked down at her shoes, guilt flooding her mind. “Can I help?”

“No.” Nicole said quickly. _Too quickly_ , Waverly thought. “It’s best if you just go home for now. Are you ok to drive?” She asked again, her voice softening slightly.

“It’s ok, I’ll make sure she gets home safe.” Champ said nobly, stepping up to stand shoulder to shoulder with his ex-girlfriend and smirking at the police woman in what he clearly thought was a charming manner. The bruise coming up along his jaw made the smile wonky and uneven, and diluted the effect considerably. “Thank you, Sheriff. We’ll be fine now.”

Nicole’s eyes flashed with annoyance, her jaw tightened, and Waverly opened her mouth to brush the offer off, but with barely a glance to check that Waverly wasn’t uncomfortable and a curt nod, Nicole was already striding away.

“I don’t want you to take me home, Champ, Jesus.” Waverly hissed.

The man stared at her in confusion. “But you’re my...oh. Yeah. Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Guess I forgot for a second there.”

Waverly rolled her eyes theatrically. “Just - go home, Champ. Go check on your mom, ok?”

He looked like he wanted to say more, his face wide open and hopeful, but clearly thought better if it. As he ambled away, Waverly bit her lip, looking over at Nicole as she discussed the situation with Nedley, gesturing up and down the road. She looked in control, co-ordinated and fierce despite her dishevelled uniform, but the deep furrows on her brow and the way she seemed to be refusing to look in Waverly’s direction made the brunette think otherwise. Feeling her heart aching in her chest and the shame curdling in her gut, she remembered Heather’s words, and felt the accuracy of them burning like gasoline in her stomach. 

_“We make you feel worse than you ever knew you could.”_

————-—————————————————

“Hey Haughtstuff.”

Nicole sighed loudly and holstered her gun. It was 11pm and the whole town was on curfew, nerves raw from the cold water shock of Heather’s death, with the exception of the darkened, shuttered saloon whose one unexpected occupant wasn’t inclined to comply with baseless rules. “Wynonna, I could have shot you, I thought you were a looter.”

Wynonna Earp shrugged, making no move to leave or even remove her muddy boots from the table where they rested in a pool of unidentifiable liquid. “I guess I would be but there’s fuck all to loot in this ass crack town anyway. I don’t know why you’re bothering.”

Nicole put her hands on her hips, ignoring the pilfered bottle of whiskey in her friend’s hand. “It helps people to feel more secure if it seems like the authorities have a handle on things. Locking down gives them comfort that we’re in control, at least while the relief effort is underway.”

“And how is your great and mighty rescue going? White horse still charging?” Wynonna scoffed, taking a slug of liquor. Nicole noticed the slur to her voice, underlaid with a blunt edge of vindictiveness, evidence of the amount of alcohol surging through her slight frame.

“We haven’t found any more dead bodies, not since yesterday, and we’ve made sure everyone has food and bottled water.” Nicole answered honestly; it had been a hectic 48 hours since the wish had been broken, and she wasn’t in the mood for sugar coating the facts, not even for her drunk friend. “People keep forgetting what’s real and what isn’t. I think Jeremy is making a banner to hang over main square as a reminder of what happened.”

“Hah.” Wynonna snorted mirthlessly. “You reckon that’ll work?”

The officer shrugged. “It makes him feel useful. Same reason we’re running the blood drive and the clothing donations, it makes people feel like they can contribute even if it’s not strictly needed.” Nicole walked closer, squinting through the gloom. Wynonna looked tired, slumped in on herself, her eyes red and puffy as though she hadn’t slept in a long, long time, and her hand was trembling, making the booze slosh in the bottle she held to blue-tinged lips. “Are you ok?”

“Sit down and have a drink or leave me alone, Sheriff Stick-Ass.” Wynonna ignored the question, instead pulling a chair over and waggling the whiskey at the redhead. Nicole peered pensively at the door, but it had quietened down in the days since they shot Heather and she didn’t really have anywhere else to be; besides which, the thought of leaving the elder Earp alone, miserable and fall-down drunk didn’t sit right in her belly. It wasn’t a hard choice.

“Sure, I can spare a minute.” Nicole said, ambling forwards with her hands on her belt.

“Thatta girl.” Wynonna said, pushing the bottle into the Sheriff’s hand.

They sat in silence for a time, listening to a drip-drip-drip from one of the beer taps and their own breathing, lost in their thoughts. “So, how long you reckon this place will be closed?” Nicole asked eventually, sliding the bourbon back towards its liberator, glad when Wynonna didn’t point out that she hadn’t taken a sip.

“Fucked if I know.” Wynonna said, swallowing a long pull. “The man-eating fairy fucker who was recently running this place is dead and gone, and Doc seems to be avoiding it like the plague. Well, it or me.”

“Why?” Nicole asked, surprised. She’d taken several of the bags of blood from the donations made by the fitter townspeople out to the Gardner house, where Kate had set up home. She hadn’t seen Doc, but Kate had seemed pleased with the gift and there’d been no suggestion made of a rift between the vampire and the demon hunter.

Wynonna sniffed morosely, “What you got? Forgetting him. Forgetting myself. Choosing this shit hole town over his daughter.”

“Alice is your daughter too.” Nicole said quietly, looking down at her hands where they rested, splayed out on the sticky table top. “You’re her mother, no matter what.”

“Yeah? You tell me then, what kind of mother sends her child away _twice_?” Wynonna scowled, letting her feet fall from the table and dropping her head into her hands with a groan.

Nicole thought for a minute, drawing with a drop of stale beer on the varnished table top and choosing her words carefully. When she spoke, her voice was heavy with sincerity. “The kind of mother who loves her daughter enough to put their wellbeing ahead of her own selfish wants. The only kind worth a damn.”

Wynonna slumped back in her chair, eyes watery and disbelieving. “You really are a nicey-nicey goody-two-shoes, aren’t you?”

Nicole laughed. “You and I both know I’m a judgemental, fussy little prick, but I don’t kick someone up the ass unless they actually deserve it. You should be proud of yourself, Earp. You’ve done right by that little girl twice now, even though it hurt you like hell to do it; it’s not like either of us grew up with parents who would have noticed one way or another.”

Wynonna sniffed again, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. “Except moma. Moma threw herself under the looney bus to keep Waverly safe.” 

Nicole nodded sagely; Wynonna didn’t miss how the redhead’s eyes dimmed at the mention of Waverly’s name. “Yeah, that’s a fair point. Maybe self sacrifice runs in the family.”

“Could be. Tell me, Ginger Snaps, why are _you_ avoiding the homestead?” 

Nicole went stiff, straightening in her seat before slouching casually back, legs crossed loosely in a determined show of nonchalance. “I don’t know what you mean. I’ve been busy is all, what with some twinkle-toes Paul Daniels wannabe causing chaos, half the Sheriff’s Office out of commission, and Nedley back in retirement.”

The heir laughed. “That man will never be _in retirement_ until he’s at least six feet under, you and I both know that. Plus, things are as quiet as they’ve ever been round here, at least until the Rev heads start remembering what total bastards they are. You’re avoiding my sister and you know it.”

“Says the woman hiding in an empty bar at 11 at night.” Nicole responded defensively. “I’m not avoiding Waverly. I texted to make sure everything is ok.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Wynonna said, leaning forwards with a calculating expression. “And in the years since you and Waverly first played tonsil hockey, when was the last time you went two whole days without at least a phone call?”

“I-it’s-you...” Nicole heaved a heavy breath, shutting her eyes and setting her jaw. “Ok, _fine_ , maybe I am avoiding Waverly a teeny tiny bit. I’m just...hurt, I guess.”

Wynonna pulled a face, and held out the bottle. “Yeah, there’s a lot of that going about.”

“I know it’s not her fault.” Nicole said, absently taking the proffered drink and setting it on the table in front of her. “Not really. But it stings, to know she was the one who wished away what we had. Who wished for me to be some outcast, with no job and no home and no friends, while she was here playing house with Champ fucking Hardy. That she...” the woman hesitated, finally taking a swig of whiskey with a grimace before continuing. “That she thought what we had wasn’t ‘normal’. I’m struggling to forgive her for it.”

“Not going to lie, I didn’t see it coming. What even happened to make her do it?” Wynonna asked, a faraway look on her face that suddenly turned thunderous. “Did you do something to her? Did you hurt her?”

“No!” Nicole cried. “Of course not! I would never hurt Waverly, not intentionally anyway.”

Wynonna narrowed her eyes. “You better not, because I might be pissed at her but she’s still my baby sister.”

“So,” the Sheriff said, crossing her arms, “now we’ve discussed my big lesbian feelings, why are _you_ avoiding her?”

“Nope.” Wynonna said, snatching the whiskey back and taking a long drink. “Not going there.”

“Ok then, I’ll talk and if I’m right you just grunt.” Nicole said with a raised eyebrow. “You’re angry that her wish brought Alice back, and reminded you of everything you’re missing out on by doing the right thing, but, knowing you, you’re also fuming at yourself because you know it wasn’t Waverly’s fault, and that she would never wish something so cruel on anyone, let alone her own sister. So you’ve run off to lick your wounds in private rather than face your demons. Am I in the ballpark?”

Wynonna sucked her teeth. “In the ballpark, at the plate, and hitting a home run.”

“The crowd goes wild.” Nicole joked sarcastically. 

“We’re fucked up, aren’t we?” Wynonna said, wobbling in her seat as she tried to focus on Nicole’s face. 

“Nah, we’re just kind of good at the whole self-sabotage thing.” Nicole said, getting to her feet. “Come on, I’ll drop you home. Unless you want to sit in the dark brooding all night?”

Wynonna glanced around the bar, eyes squinting as her vision blurred, the echoes of happier times making the room seem lonely and desolate. She pulled herself up, clutching the table for support. “I’ll let you take me home if you promise to talk to my sister. My world feels like it’s on its ass already, I can’t have my lesbian moms arguing too.”

Nicole sighed. “Fine.”

“And you might need to help me walk.” Wynonna continued, slinking back down into her seat. “I can’t feel my feet right now.”

———————————————————————

Waverly opened the door, her heart racing. She’d been sitting at the table in their now half-built kitchen trying to read but her mind wouldn’t quieten down enough to let her. Images would flash up unbidden - Nicole smiling at her from the door of Shorty’s, Nicole laughing in the early morning light, Nicole’s face furrowed with gentle concern...

Each time it happened, she’d have to pause, turning the memory over in her hands, picking it apart, trying to work out if it was a before-memory or a wish-memory, tying herself up in knots over whether what she’d experienced in those weeks of delusion could even be classed as _real_ ; if it even really mattered either way. She was staring at the shapes of the letters as she stewed in her predicament when the knock at the door came.

“Nicole-“ she said happily, wrenching open the front door with a grin written wide across her face. The smile fell slightly. “Oh, hello Doc.”

“Waverly.” Doc said, tipping his hat in a gentlemanly fashion. He looked a little nervous, as he always did in the harsh light of day, standing in the cold midday sun of an Alberta winter. “How are you keeping after your ordeal?”

“I’m fine.” Waverly said unconvincingly, gesturing behind her. “Do you want to come in? I’ve just boiled the kettle for tea.”

Doc smiled, but shook his head. “Oh no, thank you kindly. I only stopped by to thank Officer Haught for her welcome...uh... _donation_. It has helped Kate and myself immensely to recover from our time of hunger.”

“Oh.” Waverly said with a frown, feeling herself slump down inside her own skin at the reminder. “Nicole isn’t here I’m afraid, but I can pass on a message if you like, when I see her. If...if I see her.”

“Oh.” Doc echoed, looking puzzled. “If it isn’t too forwards of me, may I enquire as to whether things are quite well between the two of you? Only usually you are as inseparable as two peas in one pod.”

Waverly swallowed thickly, looking down at her feet. “No. No, I don’t think things are well between us at all.” 

“Would you like to talk about it?” Doc asked kindly. 

Waverly shook her head, eyes firmly on her slippers. She could feel the tears she’d been holding in threatening to burst at her friend’s concern, the emotions she’d tried to lock down since the terrible, terrible afternoon 2 days earlier that blew her world apart. That blew _both_ her worlds apart. 

“Well then.” Doc said, a note of uncertainty in his voice but the same friendly, gentle tone that he reserved for the Earp sisters smothering all else. “I should think, Miss Waverly Earp, that I might take you up on the offer of a cup of char afterall.”

The woman wrinkled her nose. “You don’t drink tea.”

Doc looked thoughtful, before waving his hand around his throat. “Or-din-arily, you would be correct, Ms Earp, but even though I drank two whole bags of blood before coming here, I find myself utterly parched. May I?”

Waverly smiled, opening the door wider. “Always, John Henry.”

Doc walked in with the laid-back swagger of a man who has realised long ago that he was the toughest son-of-a-bitch in any given room, his eyes taking in the state of the homestead. “Well, I must say Sheriff Haught did a tremendous job even if it wasn’t strictly required.”

Waverly smiled weakly. “She did in here because she’d finished. The kitchen is still only half standing, and the less said about the upstairs the better. Wynonna is never going to let her live it down when she sees it.”

“That I can believe.” Doc chuckled, fondness dripping from his tone and clogging the air around them with sweetness at the mere thought of Wynonna. 

“I’ll get us that tea.” Waverly said to break the silence.

They sat together at the table in the kitchen, steaming cups between them. Waverly made it the British way, with milk and sugar, trading the cows milk for oat milk; Doc looked at it like he would rather be drinking dog piss, but politely took a small sip. “So have you heard from your sister at all?” He asked after a suitable pause.

“No, she’s been AWOL for a couple of days now.” Waverly said with a small shrug. “Have you?”

Doc sighed, pushing the steaming mug across the table from hand to hand, like a cat batting a ball of twine. “I am loathe to admit that I have not.”

“Have you reached out to her?” Waverly prodded gently.

Doc screwed up his face. “I don’t want her to feel pressurised by my presence. I understand, believe me I do, how hard this...turn of events must have been for her, more so than for any of us. But I am mighty proud of her, for yet again doing what I fear none of us would have been strong enough to and saving our little girl.”

“She did.” Waverly said, feeling her bottom lip start to wobble. “It must have hurt like hell but she put us all above herself, just like always.”

Doc nodded slowly. “Just like always. You know, Waverly, your sister doesn’t see it, and sometimes it’s even hard for me to recognise, but I think underneath the booze and the carefully constructed carelessness, your sister might be one of the most selfless people I have ever met. And it breaks her heart, time and time again.”

Waverly nodded agreement, focusing her eyes on the amber liquid in her favourite pink unicorn mug, unable to bring herself to answer for fear of the gut-wrenching sobs that would unbearably follow.

————————————————————-

It was considerably later than that that Waverly, half asleep on the couch with the TV playing 80s power ballads on repeat, heard the sound of familiar tyres crunching over the frozen mud of the homestead’s yard. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to go upstairs, where Nicole’s scent still lingered, to lie in the bed saturated with their love-making, with their two first times that wrecked her for anyone else in repeat, and had settled instead for lying prostrate in the living room listening to the crackle of the fire and whatever nonsense they showed on TV after the world was asleep.

Hearing the car door open, she scrambled to her feet, bleary eyed, and nearly tripped over the fluffy throw draped across her lap, knocking into a side table with her hip and watching in horror as her favourite mug hit the floorboards and shattered, pieces of pink crockery firing in different directions and bouncing off her tatty tartan pyjama bottoms.

“Shoot!”

“Please don’t, she was already in this state when I found her.” 

Waverly’s head shot up with hope at the sound of the familiar teasing voice, to see Nicole standing in the doorway, an obviously wrecked Wynonna slumped against her, one of the Sheriff’s strong arms slung around her waist.

“Imma wan’ go ‘ome.” Wynonna burbled, lifting her head slightly with intense effort before letting it drop again, a stream of dribble breaking free and puddling near her shoes.

“Oh dear.” Waverly frowned.

“Yeah, she was pretty far gone when I found her but as soon as the air hit her...Jesus Christ on a bike. You should see what she did to my cruiser.” Nicole scrunched her nose. “Where do you want her putting?” 

“On the sofa.” Waverly said quickly, picking her way across the detritus on the floor to reposition the cushions. Nicole lowered the drunk woman down carefully, bracing herself on the back of the couch as she did so. As soon as her head hit the newly positioned cushion, Wynonna started snoring. “Amazing.” Waverly shook her head in disbelief at her sister, smiling in spite of herself.

There was an awkward silence.

“Can I get you-“ Waverly began. Nicole jumped as though electrocuted.

“I’m gonna head out. Let you get some sleep.” She said quickly, moving towards the door as though escaping a burning building. “You’ve obviously had quite a night.” She pointed distractedly at the broken cup, avoiding Waverly’s eyes as she went. Inside Waverly, something went _snap!_

“Please!” She cried, hands outstretched, the panic and sorrow of the last few days making her voice hoarse. Nicole stalled, hand already midway to the door handle. She looked conflicted. “Please?” Waverly said again, quieter, more collected.

“Waverly, I-“ Nicole began, refusal already on the tip of her tongue. The younger woman saw it coming, saw it loading in the cavity of her lover’s mouth like a bullet in a gun, and stepped forwards, face pleading.

“I just want to talk. Can’t we talk? I’ve been waiting for you for two days, needing to see you, to hear you.” Waverly babbled, not caring that she sounded needy or desperate; not caring that she was laying herself bare and vulnerable, ready to be flayed. “I can’t stand this. I can’t stand not knowing.”

Nicole sighed, let her hand drop, but didn’t retreat from the exit. “Not knowing what, Waverly?”

Waverly swallowed, fingers twisting together. “Not knowing...about us. About...what we are. If you still...”

Nicole looked like she’d been slapped, eyes widening and mouth gaping open. “ _You don’t know_?” She said incredulously; she stepped forwards, throwing her hands into the air. “Damn it, Waverly, how do you think _I_ feel?”

Waverly flinched. “If you’d just let me explain-“

“Explain that you wished me away?” Nicole said coldly. “That I wasn’t _normal_ enough for you? No thanks, I’d rather not hear it.”

“That wasn’t what it was, and you know it!” Waverly said, raising her voice in frustration. She barely resisted the childish urge to stamp her foot, knowing that neither of them would appreciate it in the heat of that terrible moment. “She twisted my words, that-that thing twisted my wish.”

“Did she, Waverly?” Nicole said. “Because I’m having a hard time believing it.”

“Nicole, I love you.” The Earp said, her voice firm and steady, as though speaking the one certainty she had left in the world. Nicole didn’t respond. “I love you.” She tried again.

“You know what the worst part, the thing I’m struggling with most?” The redhead said as though Waverly hadn’t spoken at all, staring at her girlfriend with searching eyes. “Is that, everyone else gained something. Jeremy got his man, Wynonna got Alice, you...well you got a nice _normal_ husband and your family back together. Even Doc still had Kate.” She sniffed, eyes damp with rare tears that made Waverly squirm with the need to reach out and comfort, hold, love. “But me? I lost everything. I lost my career, my home, my friends, I even lost the memories I shared with Shae. Gained a lot of made-up awful ones, but lost those.” Nicole scoffed, shaking her head. “But more than that, I nearly lost you. You’re the love of my life, Waverly Earp, and I’d have done anything for you. And to find that it was _you_ , who wished my life into the gutter, who nearly took everything from me? I don’t know if I can forgive that.”

“Nicole...” Waverly said, her throat suddenly too tight to allow free speech. She wanted to explain, to apologise, or throw herself on her knees and beg forgiveness, something, _anything_ to stop the hard, steel-sharp look brewing in the face of the woman she loved. Because she did love Nicole; loved her with a passion and a need that made her insides shake, in the dark of a sleepless night, at the thought that one day they might part. “I...”

“I can’t, Waverly.” Nicole said at hearing the brunette’s voice, seemingly shocked into action at the sound. “I love you, ok? But I just...can’t right now.”

The door closing was loud enough to make even Wynonna wince; turning over in her sleep, lost in whiskey dreams of blonde curls and the talcum-powder smell of infants everywhere, the Earp heir completely missed Waverly breaking down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, my feelings.
> 
> You might have noticed that I’ve increased the number of chapters; I started writing and wasn’t quite comfortable with what I’d plotted, so I’ve extrapolated it to make sure everyone gets a proper chance to manage their shit. 
> 
> To everyone doing Homecon this weekend - have a terrific experience. To everyone not - let’s hang out here instead hah.


	16. Chapter 16

After she had escaped the Earp homestead and the sweltering, crushing weight of Waverly’s hope, Nicole Haught had driven...well, not like a woman possessed, because no matter what had happened she was still a police officer at heart, but definitely pushing the line of the speed limit. She’d just needed to get away, to clear her head of everyone else’s expectations so she could strip bare her actual thoughts and emotions, probe each part, clean them and oil them as one would a trusty old revolver, and put them back together in the right order. 

It had been a long preferred trick of hers, escaping to the wilderness for a while when life became too much. It was how she’d gotten into climbing, as a teenager desperate to escape where her uncaring parents and bullying classmates wouldn’t find her. It had become more difficult in recent years, after she stopped calling only the wide open spaces of her native country home and instead started thinking of Waverly as her port in the storm, but still, when they fought, she would run for an hour, sit in her car if it was winter or in the grass on the side of the road in summer, and calm herself.

Typical, then, that in her worst crisis she was stuck, unable to put any distance between herself and the town because of the ever present demands of duty. Pulling into the station parking lot, she cursed Darren irrationally for being out of action. Then, she made a mental note to visit the deputy languishing in the medical centre for severe malnutrition the next day, and went inside.

Making a cup of the bitter, strong coffee that Nedley still brought with his own money even months after his retirement, she took a seat at the front desk and waited. It was unlikely anyone would come in; there’d been a deluge of frightened, confused people in the first 24 hours - some trying to work out why strangers were in their house or report missing loved ones, some just wanting to see a familiar face of authority as their worlds spiralled out of control. It had settled down though; gradually, Heather’s magic was disappearing from the world entirely, and life was finding its old familiar groove. They’d lost 16 people in the end; 16 funerals waiting to happen, and despite the pain, Nicole knew that the mourning would be cathartic for both the grievers and the town alike. Now, there wasn’t really anything to do but wait for that time and hang on for the gaping seams of their reality to heal. Plenty of time to dig down on her hurt, to pull it from the ground and see it for what it was, genuinely, by the light of day, shorn of the mud and dirt of the chaos.

From an objective, dispassionate viewpoint, Nicole knew that she was being unfair to Waverly. Her wish had been vague, barely even a wish at all, just an idle curse uttered out of hurt and humiliation. She could remember now that the fog was clearing what had brought it on; could remember the sour taste in her mouth at the first ugly shout as they left their favourite (and Purgatory’s only) curry house on the outskirts of downtown, feeling young and in love and carefree, hands clasped together and their lips heavy with unshared kisses. The date, if it had even really been that, had been sweet and soft, a chance to catch up where their friends and family couldn’t ‘bump’ into them and drag them into whatever new ridiculousness was kicking off next; a few stolen hours to bask in each other’s devotion. Nicole had presented the locket over desert, an impulsive buy from her last trip to the city because it had “Waverly Earp” written all over it under the foreign words and tarnished gold. And then the first horrible taunt had sounded from behind them, and the night turned dark, and it had ended with Nicole running the gaggle of sneering youths off, her police badge and sternness her shield and sword, and Waverly, poor, kind, innocent Waverly, turning ashen and silent for the entire drive home. 

She didn’t blame her for saying the words that started this whole mess; Nicole had been an out lesbian woman for more years than she had been a woman at all, and had, in the face of the few unkindnesses and snipes that the world threw her way for it wished things were different, without giving any proper thought to what that might mean. No, she didn’t blame Waverly, not really. It didn’t stop the hurt, though. It didn’t stop the insecurities it had torn open, raw and tender.

By the time the dawn light crept in, bringing with it Deputy Saunders ready to take over shift, Nicole knew what she had to do.

The stores were still closed, but she knew that Mrs Pringle who ran the tacky souvenir shop out near the Visitor Centre was an early riser. The old woman opened the door when she knocked, peering through a sliver of a gap to scowl suspiciously at the Sheriff. 

15 minutes later, purchase in hand, Nicole was in her car and once again headed out of town. The sun crested the mountains and rolled unhindered over the forests, bathing the snow in light that reflected it back twice as bright, shimmering like crystals in the cold air. 

The homestead was quiet when she arrived. Unsure if she’d be welcome, she texted Waverly to let her in rather than knock on the door. She watched from her cruiser as the seconds ticked by, optimism and anxiety battling between her ribs, until after a minute the front door opened to reveal Waverly, wrapped in a blanket and blinking foal-like in the sunshine.

“Hey.” Nicole said quietly as she walked up the steps.

“Hi.” Waverly said, and in spite of the words still hanging between them from the night before, she looked hopeful, a smile dancing across her mouth. Nicole felt her heart clench at the sight, suddenly desperate to press her fingers to Waverly’s soft skin and her mouth to her hot lips. But she couldn’t, not yet, not with so much left unsaid between them.

“Can I come in?” Nicole asked, and Waverly instantly acquiesced. 

“Wynonna took herself off to bed a little while ago. I think she’s out for the count.” Waverly explained as Nicole took in the empty living room, a question on her tongue.

“I bet, with what she must have put away last night.” Nicole said, turning the package she’d brought over in her hands absent-mindedly.

“Can I get you a drink, or...” Waverly waved her hands, “something?”

Nicole swallowed. “No, thank you. I just...” she looked down, remembering the brown paper wrapped gift she’d braved mean old Mrs Pringle for. “Oh, I got this for you.”

Waverly took the small parcel with a confused smile. “Thank you?”

Nicole shrugged. “It’s just a small thing. You can open it if you want.”

With careful fingers, Waverly prised open the tape, pulling back the wrapping as though terrified to tear it, to crease it, as if the gift itself were an omen. She held the item she found there up to the dim light of the cabin, turning it round in her hands, a look of wonder on her face that didn’t fit the meagreness of the offering.

Nicole scuffed the toe of her boot in a display of uncharacteristic awkwardness, rubbing the back of her neck. “I saw yours was broken last night. Your favourite one, I mean. I thought, maybe we should get you a new one.” 

Waverly beamed. The mug was white, with a print of a rams face on one side and the words ‘A Gift From Alberta’ written underneath in a looping font. On the other was the provincial shield, the printing slightly skew-whiff. 

“It’s just a temporary replacement, until you can get a better one. I know you’ve always had a thing for kitsch.” Nicole said, looking like she intensely regretted the present now it was in Waverly’s palm, looking cheap and mass produced.

“I _love_ it.” Waverly said, reaching a hand to squeeze Nicole’s wrist comfortingly. Nicole gave a small, relieved smile, relaxing slightly at the touch. “How about I make us some coffee, give it a test run. And then maybe we can have that talk?”

Nicole let out a sigh. “Yeah, ok. Yeah.”

She sat in the kitchen while Waverly boiled the kettle and rinsed out the cups, surveying with a twinge of guilt the destroyed cupboards, and feeling glad that she hadn’t done anything extreme like rip out the sink or disconnect the cooker. Waverly was quiet as she made their drinks, still sleepy and half dazed from the early morning wake up call and the surprise visit. There was something familiar, domestic, under the hurt and the harshness and the bad air between them, that made Nicole feel warm as she watched the younger woman bustle about, the throw held tightly over her sleep clothes, hair pulled back into a messy ponytail.

“Here, just the way you like it.” Waverly said, pushing a mug full of sweet, white coffee across the table.

“Thanks.” Nicole said, swallowing some of the liquid as her companion slid into the seat next to her. There was a tense silence, pregnant with nerves and unspoken words, neither woman sure where to start.

“Nicole,” Waverly said, a slight grittiness to her voice brought on by emotion, “you need to know how sorry I am. I never...I never meant for any of this to happen. I never, ever wanted to cause people pain, let alone you. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for what’s happened, but I just need you to know that I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Nicole answered, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. “I know this isn’t entirely your fault, Waverly, but you have to see why I’m smarting, right?”

“I do I just...” the brunette sighed, gazing towards the window where the frost was drawing patterns on the glass. “Do you remember the night before it happened?”

Nicole swallowed. “I do.”

“I’ve never...had that.” Waverly looked quickly at her girlfriend. “I mean, I’ve had that kind of thing from other people for other reasons, I’m not some fragile little flower. But that hatred, that vitriol just for us holding hands, for us being in love...I’ve never experienced that. Not even since we started. It scared me. Not just upset me or made me feel bad, it scared me deep down to my bones, made me feel like all the old barriers I had to climb over when I first realised I liked you... _loved_ you...they’d fallen back into place. And just for a second I...I didn’t think I could make it through that again.”

Nicole sighed, shifting closer in her seat so that she could rub her fingertips soothingly onto the back of Waverly’s thin wrist. “I understand. I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I’ve met my share of assholes because of who I am and who I love.”

“You’re not mad anymore?” Waverly asked hopefully.

Nicole pulled her hand back, annoyed. “I’m not angry, Waverly. I wasn’t ever angry. I’m _hurt_ , and insecure, and scared.”

“Tell me what to do.” The Earp said, sounding wretched and eager all at once. “Tell me how to fix it.”

Nicole groaned, jumping to her feet and beginning a steady pace of the kitchen, back and forth, a hand tethered in her ginger hair. “You can’t just fix this, Waverly! You can’t just make it go away!”

“Then tell me what to do!” Waverly cried from where she sat, hands outstretched and tears brimming in her eyes. 

“Just listen!” Nicole stopped abruptly, staring at her lover with sorrow written clear in her body language. “I’m trying to tell you how I feel but you won’t listen!”

There was a moment where everything felt on a see-saw, carefully balanced at half mast, perfectly capable of going either way. Then Waverly spoke. 

“Ok. Ok. Just...sit down, and tell me.” She pulled Nicole’s chair back towards her from where it had scraped across the floor, and patted the seat. “I’ll listen.”

The redhead slid into the seat, taking a calming breath, readying herself to pour the thoughts she’d spent all night understanding onto the tabletop in front of them. “I know that you didn’t explicitly wish for us to break up, or for...” Nicole gritted her teeth. “...for Champ. But I can’t help but feel that somewhere deep inside, Heather knew what you meant by ‘normal’. That maybe she saw how you pictured your best life and it wasn’t with me. It wasn’t with us.” Waverly opened her mouth to protest, but shut it again at Nicole’s pointed look. “There’s this seed of doubt now that for you this isn't right or whatever. Not normal. But for me, it is. This is my normal, baby. You’re my normal, being in love with you is my normal. I know it shook you up when those kids started on us - it shook me up too - but you have to understand, that is part of my normal too. A horrible, terrifying part, but one I’m willing to take on because being in love with the person I want to love...that’s the most normal thing in the world for me.”

“Nicole.” Waverly sighed, eyes dropping to her lap. Nicole felt her heart speed up and then stop; she could picture the next words out of Waverly’s mouth, the gentle rejection, the acceptance that yes, Nicole was right, and no, Waverly couldn’t do this anymore. Unbidden, a memory rushed to the forefront of a different girl and a different kitchen, a different broken heart that she’d all but forgotten as she grew into herself. She’d been sixteen, and she hadn’t realised the scar that the incident had left until that very second.

“Waverly, you don’t have to say anything. I’ve heard this speech before.” 

The younger woman tilted her head. “Have you?”

Nicole nodded, giving a quick raise of her shoulders. “You aren’t the first woman who decided being with me was abnormal.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth, honey. I agreed to let you talk and to listen.” Waverly said calmly, softly. “I think it’s only fair that you give me that same opportunity, don’t you?”

Nicole sniffed, raising her chin. “Yes. Of course. Go ahead.”

Waverly paused, collecting her thoughts, and then cautiously took Nicole’s hand in hers, gratified when the older woman didn’t pull away. “I am so sorry I hurt you that way, Nicole. I’m sorry I’ve made you feel insecure about our relationship, that this has made you doubt how I feel about you. But you need to understand Nicole, I know how it sounds, the wish that I made, but believe me when I tell you that that wasn’t my idea of ‘normal’. Being Mrs Champ Hardy, spending my life living above the bar, hiding my light under a big ol’ bushel...I fought so hard to get out of that little rut that life had mapped out for me. You helped me do that. When I met you, gosh, my world just exploded, because I knew as soon as I saw you that everything I thought of as ‘normal’ wasn’t. I know I’ve done a lot of damage...that making that wish has caused so much pain to so many people...and I have to live with that. But please, please, please believe me when I say that I never wanted anything but you. _Us_.”

“I want to believe-“ Nicole began, interrupted as Wynonna stumbled through the door, pale-faced and raucous.

“I need coffee and a drip.” She growled, moving to dry heave into the sink. “I’m never drinking again, until at least noon.”

Nicole blinked, the emotion boiling under the surface of her skin feeling suddenly out of place and misspent. “I...I should go.”

“No, Nicole, stay.” Waverly said quickly, making a grab for her lover. Nicole stepped back, eyes wide, something like an apology behind their glassy surface.

“I’ll see you later, Waverly. I...promise.” The Sheriff swallowed thickly, feeling ripped down the middle between the need to flee, to save face, and the desire for basic human comfort that she would only get in Waverly’s arms.

“Don’t leave on my account.” Wynonna said, her voice echoey from where her head hung in the porcelain sink.

“Hah, as if.” Nicole chuckled awkwardly, already backing away. “Remember what we spoke about last night, Earp, and then call Gus.”

Wynonna waved her middle finger vaguely in the direction of Nicole’s voice, and then the redhead was gone.

“Fudge nuggets.” Waverly said, thumping the table half-heartedly with her fist.

“Eh?” Wynonna grunted, turning her head where it rested on her forearm to regard her sister with an unreadable expression.

“Nothing.” Waverly said, climbing to her feet. “Coffee?”

“A gallon.” Wynonna agreed.

“Where have you been, ‘Nonna?” Waverly asked carefully as she busied herself with the kettle.

Wynonna sighed, eyes glazing slightly. “Here and there.”

“But you’re home now?” Waverly said, the question clear in her voice.

The elder sister sighed, moving from the sink to slump ungraciously into the chair that Nicole had vacated. “I’m always going to come home eventually, baby girl. No matter how pissed I am, I’m not going to leave you alone for long. Not again.”

Waverly felt herself tear up, a bolt of frustration running through her for how much she had cried now over something that was, without a gloss on it, her own fault. 

“Stop that.” Wynonna snapped. “I can see what you’re doing, standing their beating yourself up over what happened. Just frigging stop it.”

Waverly tried, but it just made the tears flow harder. “I- I- I’m sorry, Wynonna. For everything.” She managed.

“What the _fuck_ have you got to be sorry for?” The heir asked with exhaustion in her voice. “You made a wish, big whoop. You know how many wishes I’ve made in my life? Thousands. Millions. I’ve wished someone’s head to fucking fall off because they beat me at cards, for Christ’s sake. The difference was, you were accidentally holding some shitty costume jewellery that that _cunt_ was living in, and shit actually happened.”

“You’re not angry?” Waverly frowned. “You don’t hate me?”

“Oh, I’m angry as hell.” Wynonna snorted. “Fucking raging. I had the one thing I want and can’t have dangled in front of me; I actually held her in my arms, and nursed her, heard her call me...” she shook her head. “It was the cruelest thing that could have been done to me. But it wasn’t _you_ who did it, baby girl. So I’m still pissed, and resentful, and I might need to take off from time to time to stop me saying shit I don’t mean...but it’s not because of you. And I could never hate you.”

Waverly have a watery, grateful smile. “Ride or die?”

“Ride or die, baby.” Wynonna agreed. She retched again, covering her mouth. “But seriously, where the hell is that coffee because I’m dying right fucking now.”

Waverly chortled, turning to grab a fresh mug. There was a knock at the back door, and without waiting for an answer, it opened. 

“Ladies.” Doc said, stepping into the kitchen. He glanced cordially at Waverly before settling his eyes on Wynonna with the fierce and tender look a man might give to a long lost child or a rescue boat when they’re all at sea. 

“Doc.” Wynonna answered, sheepish, not meeting his gaze.

There was an awkward moment of silence. Waverly raised her eyebrows, peering between the two of them. “Can I get you a coffee?” She asked eventually when it became clear that neither party were willing to talk first.

Doc started. “Oh, uh, no. Thank you kindly, but I’m actually here on business.”

“Business?” Waverly asked with a frown.

“Indeed.” The man continued. “It seems our Revenant friends have come to their senses, or at least, what passes for senses with that motley crew. They are causing some disturbances in the town that I believe require our...intervention.”

Wynonna groaned audibly, but Waverly realised quickly that it was a sound of relief rather than exasperation. 

“Finally!” The Earp heir announced, perking up considerably. “I am gagging to shoot something.”

Doc chuckled. “Well then Ms Earp, I suggest you get your gun.”

Wynonna was already halfway out of the kitchen, heading towards the stairs. “Waverly, make those coffees to go! And get your shotgun! I think you could do with shootin’ someone too!”

————-———————————————

By the time Waverly got home, she was dirty and dog tired, the fatigue creeping up her spine and tightening her muscles helping to assuage some of the shame she had been carrying. Wynonna had stayed with Doc, both aggressively _not_ talking about the elephant in the room, but instead insisting on focusing on the task in hand.

They’d run the Revenants off, stopping their wave of petty, insignificant crime as they washed over the centre of town like leather clad locusts. There wasn’t anything particularly significant in it; more a release of pent-up frustration as they remembered the cards dealt to them rather than Heather’s machinations. Wynonna had insisted on hanging back, in case any more trouble flared up, taking the strain off the run-down Sheriff’s Office.

Pulling into the driveway, her heart lit up to see a familiar car parked out front, Nicole leaning against the hood, bundled up against the cold.

“Hey.” The redhead smiled wearily as Waverly leapt from her jeep.

“Hey yourself.” Waverly smiled, standing close to the woman but not closing the gap, unsure if it would be welcome. 

Nicole bit her lip. “I know this is out of the blue,” she said, patting her gloved hands together, “but it’s been A Day...and I really don’t want to be alone. So I thought maybe...”

Waverly sighed in relief. “You want to stay over?”

“Not for anything romantic.” Nicole clarified quickly, dimming some of Waverly’s light. “Not...that I don’t want anything romantic...I mean, I’m just not ready to _yet_.”

Waverly grinned, placing her hand on the Sheriff’s arm, momentarily disappointed that her mittens stopped any direct contact. “It’s ok, Nicole. I understand.”

Nicole smiled, looking down at her shoes. “Maybe we could just go to bed? I would really love to hold you tonight. Tomorrow we can talk again...but tonight, maybe we can just be ‘us’ again?”

“I would love that too.” Waverly said, and she meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I’m sure there are going to be some of you who think I’ve let Waverly off too easy here, but hear me out. I genuinely do not believe that either Nicole or Wynonna are the sort of people to hold someone’s mistakes against them unfairly; and when Waverly made that wish, she was in a time of trauma, not even really realising she was making it, let alone what she was wishing for. I imagine she feels pretty damn shit already for the fallout, but it really was not her fault, for the 99.9% most part. To quote Nicole in the last chapter, “I don’t kick someone up the ass unless they actually deserve it.” So while I fully support them feelin raw and hurt, and that is absolutely valid, I’m not going to have them torture anyone unnecessarily over it. Not after Wynonna shot that fuckin’ fairy in the face - that bitch had it comin’ :-D


	17. Chapter 17

Waverly woke up and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, she didn’t feel cold, or lonely, or scared. The arm underneath her head was warm, strong, and thankfully familiar, the muscles tensing slightly as it’s owner shifted in waking. 

“Morning, baby.” Nicole hummed as she woke up, voice gravelly with sleep. She rolled a little closer, snuggling into Waverly’s back and nuzzling her nose into thick brown hair. Waverly shivered at the contact, pushing herself incrementally into the other woman’s front. “Did you sleep ok?”

“Better than I have in a long time.” Waverly admitted with a small smile over her shoulder, that Nicole returned. “You?”

“Mmm. Better than I have since everything went to tits.” The redhead sighed happily, feeling the grating sizzling fog of fatigue finally abating and leaving a new clarity in its wake. Lazily she stretched, allowing Waverly the chance to roll and press her front leisurely against the Sheriff’s firm, feminine body.

“You know,” Waverly began tentatively, “while we were apart... _before_...I barely slept. It just felt like something was missing. It was only when we reconnected that I realised it was you. I can’t sleep without you holding me.”

Nicole’s eyes became serious, and, Waverly noticed with a frown, a tad pained. “Wave...” she began, drawing the word out slowly as if searching for a response. Waverly had the falling sensation in the pit of her stomach that she had pushed too far, too soon, and she regretted it instantly.

“Sorry, that was a little much.” Waverly said quickly with a false little chuckle, making to move away from where she was tucked into Nicole’s side. Strong hands stopped her progress, and she looked up to see gentle brown eyes regarding her with puzzled affection. 

“Where are you going?”

Waverly swallowed. “I just thought you might need some space.”

“We’ve had too much space these last couple of days.” Nicole said, softly tugging the smaller woman back into place with a careful power that made it clear to Waverly that she could leave if she really wanted to. Waverly _definitely_ did not want to.

They settled back together like puzzle pieces finally finding the correct join, letting the tension seep from their bodies as they basked in the early morning sun and each other’s warmth. Waverly could feel herself drifting, finally feeling like she was where she needed to be after days of feeling hopelessly lost.

“It was the same for me, you know.” Nicole whispered quietly.

“What?” Waverly asked, tilting her head up to hear better, hopeful and yet unsure of what she thought had been spoken.

Nicole cleared her throat; shifted slightly in the bed. “It was the same for me. When we were apart I couldn’t sleep, not without you next to me.” 

Waverly let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding on to, pressing her face into the warm, familiar morning scent of Nicole’s soft skin, her nose nudging up the arm of her sleep shirt slightly as if to drink more in. She felt dizzy with relief and pleasure; wanted to get drunk on it, if she could.

“Wave?” Nicole asked after a moment of contemplation.

“Hmm?” Waverly stilled her gentle snuffling, a little guiltily at being caught.

“I love you. You know I still love you, right?”

Waverly’s heart stilled in her chest, before restarting itself, harder and fiercer than it had been before. “I...wasn’t sure. I thought maybe it had become too much. After what happened.” She clicked her tongue, amending the statement to, “After what I did.” 

Nicole moved, easing down slightly so that both women were lying face to face, her calloused hand resting against Waverly’s smooth jaw, the pad of her thumb drawing circles on the downy softness of Waverly’s cheek.

“I’m not saying I’m not still struggling.” Nicole said, holding firm as the younger woman automatically tried to move away, eyes averted, as if covering her bruised heart from the redhead’s piercing gaze. “No, Wave, stay. I’m not saying I’m not still struggling, but I love you, and you need to believe me: this isn’t your fault. You didn’t make this happen, not really.”

“You think so?” Waverly sniffed, sounding bereft.

“I know so. And we’ll get through it.” Nicole said firmly, leaning in to press a kiss to Waverly’s forehead.

“You...” Waverly huffed. “Do you want to be with me still? Like...as my girlfriend?”

“I’m not sure I can be without you, actually.” Nicole chuckled wanly, causing Waverly to smile hesitantly. 

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming.” The brunette asked.

Nicole raised her eyebrows, a teasing smile on her mouth. “ _But_ it’s going to take patience and understanding for us to get over everything that’s happened.”

“I do understand, Nic, I-“ Waverly began, talking fast. Nicole ran her thumb over her lover’s lips, shushing her.

“From _both of us_ , baby. It’s not a blame game here, ok? It’s just us, taking some time to rebuild.”

“Patience and understanding.” Waverly repeated, letting the words sink in. It sounded simple, there in the bubble made by their blankets and each other’s limbs, locked away from the uncaring world, together.

“Exactly.” Nicole nodded with a grin. “And luckily for us, we already know we have both of those in spades, right?” 

“I guess we have.” Waverly said with a sigh, thinking of the trials they’d already been through as a couple - hidden truths and hot-tubs.

Nicole smiled. “Can I kiss you?”

Waverly’s lips were on hers before she’d finished talking, keen and warm, and for a moment, there was no past or future; there was just them.

———————————————————

Wynonna stared down the phone in her hand as though it were the barrel of a shotgun, her eyes tracing each spindly crack in the screen, each scuff on the casing. 

“Ok, pull it together Earp.” She whispered, clearing her throat before hitting the dial button, moving quickly so as to take away the opportunity to second guess.

“I wondered when I’d hear from you.”

“Hey Gus.” The older Earp said, feeling an odd mixture of fear and relief at the sound of her aunt’s voice.

“It wasn’t a dream then, huh?” Gus asked with an almost disinterested sniff. 

“Nope. 100% genuine fairytale bullshit.” Wynonna chuckled awkwardly. “Purgatory’s finest.”

“Figures.” Gus harrumphed. 

“How is...” Wynonna asked, voice hesitant.

“Alice is fine, Wynonna. You want to talk to her?”

Wynonna opened her mouth to say ‘no’, to protest, but there was already rustling on the end of the line, and the sound of muffled whispering.

“M-m-m-ma.” A little voice said, sweet and high pitched. Wynonna covered her mouth, desperate to keep the sudden and unexpected tears in. At the silence on the end of the line, the toddler raised her voice, shrieking down the phone an unintelligible stream of babble. With difficulty, Wynonna stuffed her emotions deep down in side, enough to be able to speak.

“Hey there baby girl. You being good for Gus?”

“Mama!” The child shouted, giggling happily. “M—m-m-ma.”

“That’s right, sweet one, it’s your mama. Boy, do I miss you.”

The baby giggled again, and the there was some more rustling. “You stay where Gus can see ya, honey.” A voice said. “She’s gone. Child cannot sit still. She gets that from you.” Gus said with a laugh, the sound strange to Wynonna’s ears.

“As long as that’s all she gets from me.” Wynonna said, trying for humour and balking when it fell flat, clanging down the phone line, sending up a terrible ringing silence.

“You listen to me, Wynonna Earp.” Gus said, voice dripping with annoyance. “I‘ve never been one to hold back when I got something to say, you know that as well as I do, and I ain’t about to start now.”

“Here we go.” Wynonna muttered.

“I’m sorry.”

Wynonna took the phone away from her ear, shaking it slightly, wondering if the connection was off. “What?” She asked eventually.

Gus sighed. “Look, I spent most of your life telling you exactly where you were going wrong, and I know now that weren’t right. I was just scared you’d turn out like your moma. You’re the spit of Michelle Gibson if ever there could be such a thing, and I love my sister but she was in trouble from the day she was born. I thought I could straighten you out, but I know better now.”

Wynonna pursed her lips. “Well, no one could. Don’t take it personally.”

“I couldn’t because you didn’t need no straightening out, Wynonna.” Gus said fiercely. “You’re a good woman, and a damn fine mother, even if you are a little wild around the edges. Alice deserves to grow up around that. Around _you_.”

“What are you saying, Gus?” Wynonna asked sharply, terror and excitement and hope mixing and bubbling up in her chest and threatening to burst out.

Gus breathed a long exhale. In the background, Wynonna could hear Alice mumbling away to herself, and the clattering of plastic blocks being smashed together by small hands.

“I’m bringing her home, Wynonna. I put the flat on the market this morning.” 

“Home?” Wynonna asked, tears trickling as she gave up the fight to hold them in. “Both of you?”

Gus snorted. “Look, I love you and I can admit I’m wrong, but there’s no way that girls growin’ up without her auntie Gus. Ain’t that right darlin’?” She asked, raising her voice.

From the other end of the line, Wynonna heard her daughter giggle. _Home_

——————————————————————

Jeremy stood in line, looking without feeling at the pile of snacks in his basket. For a small town, they had a reasonable selection of vegan snacks, including some prized vegan ice cream that Waverly had once brow beaten the manager into ordering and which the poor man had been too scared to stop buying in since. Jeremy was a scientist, and a good one; he tried to maintain his body’s balance by eating well and making good choices, but some days just demanded sugar. “Some weeks more like.” He muttered to himself.

“Jer?”

Jeremy froze at the voice behind him, coldness running down his spine and his hands becoming instantaneously sweaty. Frantically looking at the exit, he wondered if there was a way to get out before the owner of the voice caught up with him; he took a step, and then another, his body making the decision for him. The door was almost in reach-

“Hey!” The voice called, closer now, and a long lithe hand wrapped around Jeremy’s wrist.

“Heeeeyyy, Robin!” Jeremy licked his lips self-consciously. “I didn’t see you there!”

Robin raised a teasing eyebrow. “Oh, well, I was being subtle, what with the whole shouting your name repeatedly.”

“Ha ha.” Jeremy said, wincing at how fake he sounded. “Guess I was lost in my own thoughts.”

“Off with the fairies.” Robin joked. They both frowned at the reminder. “That was too soon, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, maybe this much.” Jeremy agreed, holding his fingers a few centimetres apart for emphasis.

“Sorry. Terror makes me weird.” Robin said, bobbing on the balls of his feet. “So...buying goodies, eh?”

Jeremy looked down guiltily at his basket. “Yeah, just a few treats. I thought, after everything that’s happened, whats the harm?”

“True.” Robin chuckled awkwardly. 

“Hah.” Jeremy agreed, feeling nauseous. He remembered a morning, three days ago, when he’d woken up and taken this man, this now-stranger, into his arms and kissed him until they were both sweat-stained and swollen with want. Now they could hardly meet each other’s eyes, and it was killing him. “I should get going. Ice cream won’t keep for long in this heat.” He quipped awkwardly, gesturing with his thumb at the snow falling outside.

“Oh, uh, hey...” Robin said quickly, stepping forwards. “This is a little presumptuous but, uh, if you fancy it, maybe you could come by my place? We never finished that Legends of Tomorrow marathon and I’m dying to know how they’re going to deal with that teddy bear.”

Jeremy blinked. “Your place?”

“Yeah.” Robin nodded eagerly.

“With you?” The scientist clarified.

“I mean, if you want to?” The man said, suddenly sheepish.

“Yes. Yeah. Of course!” Jeremy said, beaming. “Legends of Tomorrow. Awesome!”

“Great.” Robin grinned happily. 

At the counter, the cashier stared out of the windows, trying poorly to hide that he was listening and, more importantly, to hide his smirk. _Young love_ , he thought wistfully, picturing his husband who had been gone 4 years, and who had held his hand through the coldest winters right up until the heart attack. _Young idiots_.

———————--—-———————————-

“You gonna be hanging around like a creep all night?”

Doc Holliday chuckled, stroking his moustache. “I do believe a man can still stand where he pleases, even in these more civilised times.”

Wynonna pulled her coat around her tighter, leaning her hip on the railing of the stoep. “Not on my porch, cowboy.”

Without missing a beat, the man stepped back and off the porch, his boots crunching on the frozen mud. “Well, now I have resolved our disagreement.”

Wynonna snorted. “What can I help you with Henry?”

Doc sighed, removing his hat, which he held in his hands like a supplicant in front of a priest. “I wanted to thank you.”

Wynonna blinked, her eyes narrowing as she searched the vampire’s face for any sign of duplicity. She found none. “ _Thank_ me?”

Doc nodded. “Yes indeed. For what you did for Alice...for our child.”

Wynonna nodded, looking down at her boots. When she raised her gaze again, her eyes were dark. “You taking the piss out of me? Cause if you are, I swear to god I’ll-“

Doc frowned. “Not at all. You deserve all the thanks I can give for keeping our child safe. I could not ask for a better mother for my daughter, not from all the women I’ve met in all my long years on this earth.”

Wynonna huffed our a breath. “Oh. Well. I guess you better come in then.”

Doc smiled fondly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re nearly there now team. Incredibly, unbelievably grateful for all your comments - you’ve helped make a shit time a bit brighter.


	18. Chapter 18

“Alice Michelle Earp, you put that down right now!” Wynonna hollared from the McCready’s back door.

“Ah, leave her be Wynonna, she’s not doing any harm.” Doc grinned, looking proudly over at his daughter who was merrily digging through the trash bag with her bare hands, holding out off-cut bits of meat for the bull terrier puppy wagging its little tail enthusiastically next to her. 

“Oh ho, great, I’ll remind you of that when you’re cleaning up dog puke at 3am.” Wynonna rolled her eyes, stomping off.

“I got her.” Nicole said, sweeping the toddler into her arms and blowing raspberries on her little stomach. The child shrieked, and she did it again.

“No ‘cole!” The girl giggled, wedging her hand over her aunt’s mouth. “‘Ickles!”

“I do not see why you begrudge her this act of kindness.” A grumbling voice said from the shadows. 

Wynonna scowled. “Well, thanks for your input there Kate, but if you hadn’t brought her the damn creature in the first place we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Kate arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “A child needs a companion.”

“Fucking vampires.” Wynonna said half-heartedly, throwing her hands in the air.

“Language!” Gus and Randy Nedley yelled in unison.

It had been a strange 8 months since The Incident, as the group had taken to calling it; the town had righted itself like a cork in water, bouncing back like nothing had even happened, but at an individual level, their lives had all changed in some way, none more so than for Wynonna, Doc and Kate.

No-one questioned that the trio now seemed bound to each other by some unspoken connection; no one had really known how to ask why, all of a sudden, they were all but inseparable, or why Wynonna and Kate’s jealousy over John Henry Holliday seemed to have twisted into another bond entirely. It wasn’t quite romantic; there were no kisses or declarations exchanged between the three of them, not that anyone could see at least. Rather the tension that had existed before had shifted, and they had slipped into their own singular groove, living between the Homestead where Wynonna still kept all her things, and the bungalow hastily constructed behind Gus’s farmhouse, where Kate carried out tarot readings and helped Gus tend her garden with the ruthless efficiency of the undead. 

“Fucking humans.” Kate muttered, folding her arms moodily.

“My dear, why you are here when you so clearly despise these events is beyond me.” Doc asked with a teasing lilt as he sauntered to where his ex-wife stood.

Kate scowled. “It’s Alice’s birthday, John Henry. You’re more of a fool than you look if you think I’d miss it because of these blood bags.”

Doc chuckled, following her line of sight to where Wynonna was now helping Randy with the barbecue. The retired Sheriff was waving his arms animatedly, trying to get the heir away from the grill. “I’m sure that’s all it is.”

“Do you think we’ll ever find out what’s going on between those 3?” Jeremy asked in a stage whisper.

Nicole held up her hands. “You do what you gotta do, but I’m not getting involved.”

“Me either.” Waverly agreed, juggling a squirming Alice and her glass of wine with the ease of one accustomed. “They seem happy - well, happy for _them_. Wynonna will tell me when she’s good and ready.”

“Awww.” Robin said with a pout. “You are the cutest, Waverly Earp.”

“Who’s cute?” Wynonna asked, appearing behind the young man as if from no where and making him jump.

“Uh, Waverly.” Robin squeaked, clutching his chest. 

Wynonna looked him up and down. “What a weird thing to say in front of your boyfriend.”

“What? No, I-“

“Anyway, Haught, you and those guns of yours going to come help me bring out some more booze or what?” Wynonna asked, slapping her friend on the shoulder with the back of her hand.

“It’s not Downton Abbey, Earp, you can haul your own shit.” Nicole rolled her eyes, but in spite of her words she was already moving back towards the main house. 

Waverly watched her sister and her lover walk away, bickering good naturedly with each other, her heart feeling full and swollen with love.

It had taken, as Nicole had predicted, time and patience to overcome their difficulties. Although on a rational level, Waverly knew that the redhead held no bitterness over the wish that nearly destroyed their lives, the insecurities it had washed up like drying jellyfish on the seashore had a more irrational outlook. She’d felt them claw to the surface as they walked down the street hand-in-hand, when a passerby stared for too long, and seen them reflected in Nicole’s face when a drunk Champ Hardy flirted at Waverly in the bar. There had been nights when Nicole had needed to disappear, taking time to herself and coming back the next day with her words laid clean and orderly, ready to talk, and painful hours where the past sat brooding and dark between them, too wide to reach around and too tall to see over. But thankfully these had been few and far between, gradually shrinking under the heat of their love to nothing but a distant albeit unpleasant memory, and rather than drive them apart, acknowledging them together, objectively, as a team, had cemented their relationship into something stronger even than before the awful night outside Bengal Gardens that almost drove Waverly under. 

“Can you stop with that? You’re making the rest of us look bad.” Jeremy laughed, shaking his head at his science-buddy’s goo-goo eyes.

Waverly snorted indignantly. “You’re one to talk. If I have to hear about this dream wedding of yours one more time I’m going to pass out from jealousy.”

Jeremy and Robin grinned at each other. 

In the kitchen of Gus’s house, Wynonna grabbed Nicole’s arms, shaking her slightly. “Calm down! It’s going to be fine, ok!”

Nicole huffed and gently shoved the brunette away. “For fucks sake, Wynonna, I wasn’t even nervous until you started telling me to calm down!”

Wynonna opened her eyes wide, palms outstretched. “It’s going to be fine!”

“Why do you keep saying that if you actually think it’s going to be fine?!” Nicole hissed.

“Ok, ok, hold up.” The older Earp steadied herself, taking a long, calming breath. “Let’s just work this through. You have the ring?”

“Check.” Nicole said, holding the gold band up, the small diamond sparkling in the light. “Made brand new, so no risk of any second-hand paranormal crap.” On one of her bad days soon after the glamour had faded, those days where the insecurities made her jealous and morose, her and Wynonna had driven out to the mountains with Heather’s locket in the pocket of Wynonna’s jeans. They’d driven until the truck was nearly out of gas, and then trudged through the snow until their legs ached; finally, they’d thrown it into a pool miles off the beaten track, never to be seen again. It had helped a little, and for weeks after when Nicole struggled with those horrible, grimy, baseless emotions, she’d driven them off with the thought of Wynonna drawing her arm back by the firelight and lobbing the trinket as far out as she could; of the ‘splunk’ as it hit the icy water, and the cheering and easy laughter that had followed. 

“And we both agreed that she is going to love you asking her right here with the family present?” Wynonna asked, breaking Nicole from her reverie.

“Check. She loves how accepted you make us feel, and I love that she loves that.” Nicole nodded firmly. “We can do the sexy romance thing later when we’re alone.”

“Firstly, ew.” Wynonna said screwing up her nose. “Secondly, don’t ever talk to me again about what you’re going to do to my baby sister.”

“No promises, but: check.”

“Ok, and finally,” Wynonna narrowed her eyes, straightening up and jabbing a long finger into Nicole’s sternum, “do you love my sister?”

Nicole sighed dreamily. “More than life itself.”

“Again, ew.” Wynonna winced. A smile crept across her face. “Let’s do this.”

“I’m going to do this.” Nicole amended, beaming at her hopefully soon-to-be sister-in-law.

150 miles away, a trout swam lazily along the bottom of a pool, it’s dark waters rippling gently, although the glen was close knit and rarely saw a breeze. Snuffling It’s nose into the silt, the fish was, if fishes could be said to have such emotions, surprised to feel something hard and metallic touch its nose. The object didn't seem edible, but it also wasn’t a stone or a pebble, and that was enough incentive for the trout, who opened its mouth and swallowed the thing whole.

Later, as the sky darkened, a boy and his father settled down to eat a dinner of line caught trout in the shade of a peaceful glade, swatting away the gnats that hovered lazily above the pond’s inky surface.

“Hey, look at this!” The boy cried, pulling at the delicate gold chain that hung from the charred belly of his fish. Holding it up, the locket winked in the dusk light. 

“Hmm, someone must have thrown it in the pond.” His father said, shovelling a forkful of trout into his mouth.

The boy laughed, scratching his head. “Who would throw this away, eh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIN.
> 
> I’ve had a lot of joy writing this, reading your comments, and briefly borrowing the characters I love so much for my own ends. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Fingers crossed I’ll be back soon - in the mean time, stay safe, be kind, and...be careful what you wish for...


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